Tiger Balm
by MarenMary93
Summary: During their years apart, Dean got a few more injuries. Injuries that Sammy knows nothing about, and Dean would like to keep it that way. But sometimes his injuries flare up, and he's left limping along, hoping that he can hide it from his little brother. Hurt!Dean
1. Hello old friend

**Hey again, just felt like writing again...**

 **And you know... Torture Dean...**

 **Currently I'm a huge fan of Tiger Balm... So why not write it into a story?**

 _Oh God, did his knee ache? Yes. Yes it did._

Dean limped towards the motel room he and Sammy had rented. Hopeful that his little brother would be asleep when he entered it.

The last couple of weeks had been fantastic. Sad, but fantastic.

Two months ago, he had showed up at Sammy's apartment with one thing to tell him.

 _Dad's on a hunting trip, and he hasn't been home in a few days…_  
Which roughly translated to; Dad's out hunting, and it's more than a month since I heard from him…

Sammy had told his girlfriend that he would be back in time for his interview the next Monday and then he had left with Dean. When they had returned, Jessica had been killed plastered to the ceiling. Swallowed by flames.

Sammy had gotten used to the normal, apple pie life. He had obviously forgotten a lot about the dangers of the job. He had not forgotten about the ever present possibility of getting killed though….  
But he had forgotten the small stuff.  
Like burns and bruises. Sprains, fractures and dislocations…

Dean on the other hand was painfully aware of all of the dangers. He had sustained double-digits injuries while Sammy had been off to college. His bum knee was one of those injuries, one of those which had stuck around and bothered him from time to time…

SPNSPNSPN

It had been a dumb accident. In a tight situation, he had been forced to jump from one rooftop to another. He had made it across… But his right knee had just collapsed under him. His full weight on the ill-positioned limb.

He had tumbled a couple of feet before he made it to a stop. Lights and colors flashed before his eyes, his knee hurt so much that he couldn't even think straight.

Of course, the fugly had jumped after him, landing with ease. Dean hated werewolves.

Luckily he had managed to put a silver bullet straight through the heart of that sucker. It had fallen dead over less than a yard away from him.

After the incident, he had spent almost three months on crutches. He had had one surgery done, but he would probably need more with time. He had been sort of lucky though… He had worked for a really rich dude, whom had payed for his surgery. And promised to pay for the future ones too…

So he didn't worry too much about that…

SPNSPNSPN

He unlocked the door silently. Almost praying that Sammy was asleep. He didn't want his baby brother to worry about his knee. It was _fine._

The lights were on, but his brother was fast asleep on his bed.

Dean sent out a thank to whoever might be listening… He slowly limped across the carpeted floor.

 _He missed his crutches._  
Well, that was something he never thought he would think…

He grabbed his duffle and headed towards the bathroom. He hissed when he stepped over the doorsill to the bathroom.

His knee wobbled a bit, but he regained control quickly. Okay, his arms flying out to steady himself against the doorframe might have helped a great deal.

He cast a glance at Sammy, happy to find his little brother still sleeping quietly.

He locked the door and hobbled the last couple of steps, unzipped his old worn-out blue jeans and levered himself onto the edge of the bathtub.

He rummaged through his duffle and found a vial of oxycodone. Then he dry-swallowed two pills. Trusting that he would forget all about his troublesome knee in about half an hour…

He looked down at the neoprene brace compressing his knee. He rolled it down his leg, the cold evening air attacked his skin and gave him goosebumps. He now knew why some girls hated going without a bra when the weather was anything but warm…

He had used the brace for about a year, maybe a little more, and the skin around his knee was unaccustomed to less than one thick layer of clothing…  
That was one year… Most girls started with bras before they hit their teens…  
He shivered at the thought…

He grabbed his duffle

bag, and sorted through it. Half a minute later he found what he was looking for, a nice little box of Tiger Balm.

 _Hello good old friend…  
_ He thought with a smile on his face, and undid the lid.

He fished up a generous dot of paste. Rubbed his hands together and massaged it onto his aching knee. He used a couple of minutes, poking and prodding the abused joint. Then he massaged it some more…

After putting his brace back on, and washing the ointment off his hands… He did his regular bathroom businesses and limped out towards his own bed again.

He helped his right leg up on the bed, then he swung his left leg after it. He had kicked off his boots, but he didn't bother with his jeans or other clothes. He would pretend that he had passed out while watching some random television show late that night, and Sammy would probably believe him.

He didn't want his brother to know how bad his knee really was. He didn't need to know…

He turned on the television and set it on mute, something he often did when it was late and his brother slept.

He maneuvered his legs so that his left leg acted as a pillow under his right knee… Then he let his head fall against the pillow, and then he waited for the merciful sleep he expected.

 **Well... Hope y'all enjoyed this one.**

 **More?**


	2. Collapse

**Wow, I don't think I've ever gotten so many reviews on the first chapter on ANY of my Supernatural fanfics! Wow...  
Thank you all for the kind and heartwarming words, I'm walking on clouds right now!**

 **THANK YOU!**

 **Anyway... Here comes the second chapter! Hope you enjoy!**

Dean woke up early the next morning. Or, you know… His knee woke him up…

It didn't exactly throb, and it didn't sting either. It just hurt. Simple as that, it hurt.

He had obviously stayed in the same position as he had fallen asleep in. His left leg tucked under his right knee. His left hip was anything but comfortable, but his right knee won with knockout when it came to the sheer amount of pain.

He groaned. How had his life come to this?  
 _He was a hunter, that's how…_ _No hunter he'd ever met had gone through a long life in the business without lasting damage.  
He just started a little young…_

He pushed himself to a sitting position, and watched Sammy breathe in and out in even and slow pulls. Dean almost smiled at how young his brother looked, unconsciousness had shaved four years off of him. At least.

Dean placed his left leg on the red carpet, then he carefully maneuvered his right leg after it. He used both hands to steady it, making sure it didn't move more than he had planned.

He pushed off the bed, only to fall back down 1.5 seconds later. He hissed as his knee started burning. Burning was what it felt like anyway… He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the pain…

A couple of minutes later, his knee had calmed down and he was ready to try another time. This time he focused on putting weight only on his left leg.

He grabbed his duffle and hobbled over to the bathroom. He had no intensions of eating, that was for sure. He was convinced that if he tried to eat ANYTHING, it would just come straight back up… But that was all because of the pain. He had always been like that when it came to pain vs. food.  
Hell, he had lost nearly 20 pounds since he injured his knee. And truth be told; he hadn't been fat to begin with…  
On the bright side, his muscles were showing more. He looked ripped! But he felt better when he had a few more pounds. It was more him... He felt too bony now…

SPNSPNSPN

He locked the bathroom door and prepped a nice, soothing, warm bath.

Then he rummaged through the bag once again, and found the orange pill bottle. He poured out two pills, broke one in half and placed one of the pieces back in the bottle. He placed the pills in his mouth and filled his hand with water to swallow them with.

Then he peed, washed his hands out of habit and limped over to the half-filled bathtub.

He stepped up in it, steadying himself on the walls of the bathtub. Once he was standing inside it, he reached down and grabbed both walls, ready to lower himself into the hot water.

He moved carefully, taking it slow not to jostle his painful knee. He kept his leg stiff out in front of him, okay, it wouldn't really move yet…  
It was a 'some-mornings' thing. Some mornings everything was well, he could walk straight away… Other mornings, like this, he could use a pair of crutches and morphine…

He grunted with pain as he lowered himself the last two inches. Hell, he made noises getting IN the bed, and no… Not like that…

He preferred cool showers, because he usually ran a little hot. Cold showers had never helped him with the problem that most guys face from time to time, nope… It could even have the opposite effect on him. But right now, the warm water were working miracles on his abused limb. He began to relax, little by little his knee let him relax.

He lost track of time while he sat there. His fingers got all pruney, but his knee felt a tad better…

He heard something stir in the bedroom outside. Sammy was awake, he had to get out of the tub and get dressed…

He pushed himself up, and placed his left leg under himself. His breath caught in his throat as his knee shocked him with a shot of pain. He stepped out on the floor, and grabbed a towel.

Once he was semi-dry, he sat down on the edge of the bathtub again and found the box of ointment again. He rubbed a dot in his hands before he started massaging it into his knee. Today was one of the bad days, one of the _really_ bad days…

Even the touch of his hands hurt, and he was pretty sure the oxycodone had started working by now. He bit his teeth and kept working the knee. Pleased with the way his knee was all rubbed in Tiger Balm, Dean fished up the knee brace he had used earlier and sniff-tested it.  
He quickly decided to put on a clean one, since the used one smelled like decaying human… (It wasn't all that bad, but it didn't smell like roses…)

He shuffled through his bag and found one of his other kneebraces. This one was black with grey and yellow… It was the one that ALWAYS crumpled on the inner side of his knee. It was fine enough when he didn't move his leg, but once he bent his knee there was a roll running horizontally halfway around his joint. But hey… It did the job…

SPNSPNSPN

He emptied the tub, and started to get dressed. He contemplated taking the second half of the pill, but decided not to… He could make it…

He limped over to the sink, knowing that he had to stiffen his limping once he unlocked the door. Unless he wanted Sammy to know…

 _I can't let Sammy see me like this…_ He thought as he grabbed his toothbrush and toothpaste, ready to clean his mouth and teeth.

He tested his leg. A little weight, more weight, more weight, OUCH!

He winced as his knee threatened to disappear from under him. His left hand shot down to rub it while his right kept a firm grip of the toothbrush.

SPNSPNSPN

Dean pulled his duffle over his shoulder and stepped out of the bathroom. Sammy sat on the edge of his bed, wearing a t-shirt and boxer briefs.

"Dude, you were in there forever!" he complained and pushed past Dean on his way to the toilet.

"Sorry, Bitch." Dean said as Sam shut the door.

"Jerk!" Sammy said from inside the room.

Dean smiled and relaxed. Then he limped over to his own bed and collapsed on top of it.

His knee was painful, how was he supposed to hide it? How could he?

He was skilled at locking sprained ankles, he had mastered the art of hiding his limping and the pain it caused him. He knew how to function with only one functioning arm, and get away with it without anyone noticing… Not even Sammy. (Most of the time…)

Knees were trickier… He couldn't lock it in a fully extended pose, cause his knee might actually bend backwards. Not like when he rested on one leg, and his slightly hypermobile joints caused his leg to curve backwards as well as outwards… No. More like dislocating completely, sending him on his ass and making sure he would have to hop along on crutches for half a year…  
At least that was what it felt like…

He sighed and helped his leg back up. He could hear Sammy aggressively brushing his teeth. He always wondered how Sammy could chew through toothbrushes like he did. If they bought new ones at the same time, Sammy's would be thorn to shreds before his showed any signs of heavy labor… And that was NOT because Dean used his brush less than Sam… Nope, it was because Dean brushed his teeth in a normal way…

Eventually the lock on the bathroom door clicked open and Sammy stepped out into the main room.

"You tired?" he asked when he saw Dean lying on his bed once again.

Dean shook his head. "Nope, just relaxing."

"You know we have a haunted house to figure out, don't you?"

"Yeah… I know…" Dean nodded his head. He sure didn't want to move, not before he got shot up with some horse-tranquilizer or something…

His stomach chose that exact moment to remind him that; even though he didn't feel like eating anything, it demanded nutrition!

Sammy's eyes fell on Dean's belly, or lack thereof…

"Since when did you stop eating?"

Dean looked up and saw realization dawn upon his little brother, then shame, then fright…

"I'm sorry!" he quickly said, panic and embarrassment coloring his voice, "I didn't mean… I didn't think… I… I… err… I'm sorry Dean!"

Dean quirked an eyebrow at his younger sibling.

"Watcha ramblin' about Sammy?" he said it with a grin. But he realized that he might have to start forcing food down his own throat soon. Unless he wanted to become ill…  
And that was one thing he didn't want to…

"I didn't notice, I'm sorry… You hardly ever eat anymore… Except sometimes, when you're binging!"

Dean shook his head, he knew Sammy's observations were correct. He couldn't argue about that… But he knew that the reason wasn't some deep buried psychological issue, it was a very physical issue. One involving his almost ever-aching knee…

"Relax Sammy, I'm fine… Nothing has cracked my nut yet…" he pushed himself back up to a more sitting position. He had been leaning on his elbows for a little while.

He moved his stiff leg off the bed, using nothing but his leg and willpower. His moves were slow, but not too slow. Not slow enough to make his bitching little brother suspicious.

He hauled himself to his feet, balancing mostly on his left leg. Then he looked up at his not-so-little little brother…

"Now, let's go get some breakfast!"

His stomach growled happily at the possibility of something edible. And Dean realized that he hadn't eaten anything since breakfast yesterday…

They picked up their jackets and headed outside. Sam lead, Dean followed.

SPNSPNSPN

Sam reached the Impala long before Dean did. His brother was a bit slow sometimes…

Lately he had started taking his sweet time with a lot of tasks, and often when they walked somewhere Sam would turn around to see his older brother 10 yards behind him…

And he moved less… He ate less…  
Did he move less because he ate less, or was it the other way around…?  
And he was always fatigued…

He kept his eyes on Dean, slowly strutting down the sidewalk. Like he had all the time in the world.

Without any notice at all, Dean crumbled to the ground.

Sam felt his heart skip a beat, or five…

"Dean!" he yelled out for his brother, and sprinted over to where Dean now laid on the concrete sidewalk.

Dean had crawled in on himself, and he was clutching his right leg. Gripping it tight. Steadying it.

"Dean! What happened?" Sam's pulse was racing. His brother seemed to be hurt, and he wanted to help.

His brother wasn't able to answer him straight away. He just laid there, clutching his leg, grunting and hissing with pain.

Sam felt helpless.

What had happened? Nothing had hit him, there weren't one crack to stumble over… Nothing should be able to trip his brother like that… Not here anyway…

The eating… Sam felt like smacking himself in his face, preferably with a baseball-bat. His brother's lack of eating had been one of his biggest clues…  
He knew for a fact that Dean didn't eat when he was in constant pain…

His second clue had been his brother's gait. He had walked stiffer. Normally it was more swingy and bouncy…  
And even _if_ Dean had limped a couple of times since they got reunited, Sam wouldn't have noticed it… Because Dean usually had that sliiiiightly limping gait, where you couldn't tell whether the person walking was limping and in pain, or just walked that way…  
Sam couldn't have known, but he should have…

And his mood…  
Dean got cranky when he was sick, hurt or hungry… Again, Sam should have known… But he didn't recognize it…

His older brother writhed in pain, still holding on tight to his right leg, or knee…

"How bad is it?" Sam asked, hoping to get contact with his brother.

"Son. Of. A. BITCH!"

Sam raised his eyebrows. It was a long time since he had heard it reach that bad. The Winchesters had a couple of different ways to measure pain. Like on a scale from 1 to 10, or like in this case; how the cusswords following was being said…  
This measurement were a lot more accurate than the 1 to 10 scale…

 _A simple 'Fuck…' meant; That hurt, but it's almost over already…  
A couple of steps further up on the scale, you found 'son of a bitch…'  
One step over that you had 'son of a bitch!'  
A couple steps more and you found 'sonovabitch!'  
On the second highest place, you finally found it one word at a time. 'Son. Of. A. BITCH!'  
The only things past that was straight out bawling or passing out… _

Sam's hands hovered above his brother's form, not knowing how to soothe his pain.

"Can you get up?" he asked, "Can I help you back in, so that you can rest on the bed?"

Dean shook his head, tears were forming in his eyes.

Sam felt helpless.

 **Okay, I know the first half probably was a bit slow.  
(I saw snails racing past me as I wrote it...)**

 **But I hope we all made it out of this chapter with a positive mindset...**

 **What do you think of the acute measurement of pain? (I skipped a few levels...)**

 **Well...  
Hope you liked it!**

 **Will I torture Dean mercilessly in the next chapter, and in that way also torture Sam...  
Probably...**


	3. What happened, Dean?

**Here comes another one!**

Enjoy.

Dean didn't even bother when his little brother CARRIED him back inside their motel room. His leg hurt too much to walk anyway…

It wasn't the first time since he wrecked it that it had acted up like this, so he wasn't all that scared. But he was in pain. Loads of it.

Tears rolled down his cheeks, he knew Sammy could see it, but he was too damn busy holding on to his knee to wipe them away.

"East there…" Sammy's soothing voice washed over him, and he could feel one of his brother's gigantic paws stroking his shoulder.

Dean cussed and fretted over his injured knee, but finally he calmed down enough to release his iron grip and lay back on his back. His muscles were tense and sweat beaded his forehead. And he was exhausted. Being attacked with pain like that really took its toll on him.

He looked up, only to find his brother's worried eyes.

They said nothing, at least for a little while.

Dean stared up at the ceiling, not really all that interested in explaining why he had just wound up like a sobbing baby on the sidewalk outside.

Sammy let him rest, he didn't want to push his older brother too much.

SPNSPNSPN

"So… What the hell was all that about?" Sammy finally asked after half an eternity.

"Nothing."

"Aw, come on Dean! I know just as well as you do, that that wasn't nothing!" Sam felt the anger rise inside him. "What aren't you telling me?"

"Sammy, it's O.K.!" Sam could hear how tired his brother's voice seemed all of the sudden, and he felt a little guilty for yelling at him… But he had to get to the bottom of this!

"Oh, YEAH? You COLLAPSING outside. You lying on the ground WRITHING in PAIN! That's all NOTHING?!"

Dean just nodded.

"No, Dean!" Sam sighed, "You tell me right now! What is wrong with your leg? And if you say nothing, I'm going to slap you, no matter how bad you're hurting right now! You understand me?"

Dean's tired and weary eyes locked on Sam's. He just laid there, looking up at his little brother. The one _he_ was supposed to protect.

"Get your pants off so I can take a look at it!" Sam demanded when his older brother didn't answer.

"Or should I help you?"

Dean winced at the thought. No, he would rather take them off himself…

His hands fumbled with the belt buckle. His hands were shaky with exhaustion…

"Sammy, it's not as bad as it looked, or looks… Okay…?" his hoarse voice filled the room.

Sam lifted an eyebrow at his brother who now struggled with getting the rim of his jeans past his ass.

SPNSPNSPN

Once his pants were off, and his brace was peeled back to expose his knee, Dean scooted on up the bed so he could rest his back against the headboard.

The surgical scar stood out with a bright pink color against his white skin. He even had tan lines from the brace. That was from before he had set out to find Sammy to find their dad…

Sammy gasped in shock.

"How could you hide this from me, Dean?" Sammy's hazel eyes found his.

" 's no big deal, bro…" Dean shrugged.

"What kind of injury was it?"

"A knee injury…"

Sammy shot him a glare that could have killed a lesser man.

"You're not funny!" Sammy shook his head before he rephrased himself, "What kind of knee injury was it? What parts of the knee were damaged?"

Dean swallowed hard, hoping for a way to explain it without making it look just as bad as it was.

They stayed silent for a couple of minutes.

"It was bad, huh?"

Dean shrugged again. He might as well have nodded…

"Whenever you're ready Dean…" Sammy said and pushed himself to his full height.

Dean nodded. Then he drew a shaky breath.

"I was working this gig for a guy up in New York. It turned out to be a werewolf. A simple silver bullet through the heart should do the trick…"

He let his eyes fall to the scars surrounding his knee.

"I cornered it in an old, abandoned building. And then its buddy cornered me…" Dean sighed heavily, "I shot and killed the first one, but the second one chased me up to the roof… I had no choice but to leap on to the next building, it was too close for me to shoot it…"

Dean tried adjusting his leg, only to get a confirmation that it HURT. He winced.

"I jumped. The jump was fine enough, I landed almost ten feet in on the next roof, rolled over and got back up again. Then the next roof… I landed far in on the roof this time too, no danger of falling down the six floors below… But my knee couldn't take it…"

Sammy saw the tears forming in Dean's eyes once again. He wanted to comfort his brother, but didn't know how…

"My knee just buckled beneath me, and I crashed down on top of it. The pain was instant, almost before it buckled under me… I managed to fling myself around just in time to see the werewolf fly between the roofs and land a few feet away. It toyed with me, didn't look like it wanted to make a short process of me… I managed to crawl over to where my gun had landed, and I shot the sucker!"

Sammy could only nod.

"My knee was dislocated, most of the things keeping it together was thorn… The guy I worked for paid the surgery, said it wasn't all that much to him anyway… The bright sides of working for rich dudes I guess…" Dean paused to smile. "Two months in a cast, three on crutches… And I had to wear a special brace for an additional three months..."

"When was this?"

"February 2nd last year."

"So, like 19 months ago…"

Dean nodded, a little over a year and a half…

"I'm gonna need more surgeries with time, Mr. Duvall said he would pay for them too… But there's never a time when it fits to be linked to crutches for six-ten weeks, now is there?"

"You shouldn't be hunting with that leg."

"I got cleared for playing football!"

"Compared to _this_ , Dean, football is easy…" Sammy didn't even try to hide his frustration.

"I know, but I can't just sit around and rot, now can I?"

Sammy shook his head, his older brother sure could be stubborn sometimes…

 **So, what do you think?**

 **Should I keep him hunting a few more chapters, or should I go straight to NY and a surgery? Maybe a hunt that leaves Dean in even more pain than he already is in, or maybe a fluffy scene on the way to NYC?  
(BTW, I don't do Sam/Dean in my stories... You might find hints of it though... If you squeeze your eyes and tilt your head to the right.)**

 **Do you want Dean hobbling along on crutches, or just limping like a mad-man?  
Okay, question is mainly for post-hunt or fluffy scenes... We can't have him jumping around on crutches in the middle of a hunt, now, can we?**

 **I really hope you liked the story this far!**

 **And I just really want to claim that I'm not a bad person! I just write and** ** _PAIN_** **pain happens...  
I'm actually a sweet and loving person...  
(I bet nobody believed me there...)  
**


	4. Hunt, Hunter, Hunted

**Hey there!**

 **Thanks for the awesome reviews!  
Here comes another chap for you guys!**

Ten days later, Dean's knee was all better. Well… Sort of…

It didn't bother him, but it was still just as fucked up as the day Sammy had seen him fall flat on his face.

After long hours of debating the matter, Dean had managed to trick his younger brother into letting him hunt when he felt up to it. At least for the time being…  
They had agreed that the next surgery should be taken care of within a year, if nothing happened in the meanwhile…

Sammy had managed to defeat the spirit that haunted the house they had researched, and they had moved on to the next dot on the map.

They were sitting at a local coffee shop in northern Iowa. Dean had a regular coffee, black. Sammy had a 'high-school-science-experiment'.

Dean was busy shuffling through the local paper, looking for gigs. He found an article about ten hikers going missing over the past two months. The last one had gone missing two days ago…

"Whatcha think about this one Sammy?" he asked and handed the paper over to his brother.

Sammy skimmed through it, it caught his interest.

"Ten hikers over two months! That's freakishly many!"

Dean nodded, "Worth checking out…"

Sammy agreed. Ten missing hikers over the span of 61 days were too many to just brush away.

Dean smiled. He had never quite figured out the thing with _resting_. He needed to move around, get his adrenalin pumping... And two weeks between hunts were more than he was comfortable with…  
One thing was for sure, he would never be anyone's favorite patient…

"Great!"

SPNSPNSPN

Sam was nervous for his older brother, as they packed their gear a few days later. He knew Dean, as well as anybody could… He knew that his brother hated being cooped up, and gladly welcomed more pain instead of bedrest. As long as his body was able to find its way out of bed at all…

His brother wasn't limping anymore. Which was a good sign, Sam guessed… Even though he wasn't completely sure whether to trust it. Dean had proved himself an expert of hiding injuries and aches from him…

They suspected the thing in the woods of being a Wendigo. It would be the second Wendigo in a short span of time.

It suddenly dawned over him why his brother had taken a couple of minutes on the floor of the cave, after he had cut him down from the rope. Haley had walked around in there straight away, but Dean had needed rest. Hell, he had basically collapsed against the wall… And he had made a lot more noise too… But when Sam had asked him if he was okay, Dean had put on a brave face and lied to him.  
Yeah… And that thing with 'I don't do shorts'… Sam knew for a fact that Dean had nothing fundamentally against wearing shorts… It had been to hide the brace, or the scar, or whatever…

All of the sudden, Sam really didn't like the idea of another Wendigo hunt.

He knew his brother well enough to know that he would hunt as long as his leg wasn't as bad as it had been a few days ago. And that had been BAD!

Through the years, Dean had hunted with injuries that would have kept Sam away from anything hunting-related, at least while he still was on the mend. But no, not his big brother Dean…

He had seen Dean fight with a recently set dislocated shoulder, more than once…  
 _'Sammy, I dislocated my shoulder again… Could you pop it back in?'_  
The worst part of that was that Sam knew he only got asked when Dean had failed dozens of times himself.

He had seen Dean, 17 years old, ready to hunt three weeks after he got a bullet through his thigh…  
 _'My leg's super, but I'll become weak and slow if I don't get back in the game soon…'_

He knew his older sibling had broken lots of things, lots of times… But he had only been in a casts like 15 times. That Sam knew of.  
 _'Nah… It's just a broken finger… I'll be fine…'_

He wasn't any better when it came to off-hunt activities.  
 _'What are ya fuzzin' about Sammy! Of course I can jump on a trampoline!'  
_ That had been three days after he'd dislocated his hip… He'd been 15…

Sam regretted the deal he had made with Dean. Dean would hunt as long as he felt like he would survive… Sam just hoped that when the other shoe dropped, and Dean got injured again, it wouldn't be too bad to fix up again…

SPNSPNSPSN

After half an hour of walking in tough terrain, they found the suspected Wendigo's lair. It smelt of decay…

Dean had put on a brave face for the last ten minutes, his knee was starting to get to him… But he wouldn't let Sammy know. No, sir!

He remembered how his leg had felt after the last Wendigo hunt, back in Black Ridge, Colorado… It had been all right until the creature had snatched him and Haley, and strung them up for keeping. He remembered being pleased with the fact that he was banged up pretty badly. That way, Sammy wouldn't know that he'd been hiding his injured knee from him a while. After all, it got better quickly that time.

They heard somebody calling for help, just over the moor. They shared a look, then they decided to run after the sound, just to check…

Against all odds, they found a human being. A young lady with blonde curls and outdoorsy clothing. She was sitting on top of a fallen tree trunk, she had her left leg propped up on the log.

"You alright?" Sammy asked when he reached her, Dean was a few steps behind.

"Yeah… No… I twisted my ankle an hour ago. I don't think I'm able to walk back out by myself…"

Sammy nodded, and threw a glance at Dean. Dean figured that he was checking what kind of state his leg was in.

"Just relax, we'll get you outta here!" Dean smirked at her.

"Yeah, but Dean… We have to…" Sammy just gestured in the direction of the cave.

"Yeah… Right…" Dean nodded.

Dean scratched the back of his neck, thinking. He knew that he would be toast if he had to make an extra trip to the car. His knee had already started to act up. Just a little though…

"What were you doing out here anyway?" he asked in lack of a better question.

"Uhm… I was investigating the disappearances…" she cleared her throat, "I'm with the wildlife service…"

Dean's eyebrows shot sky-high.

They had brought their wildlife credentials, and they always carried some kind of federal credentials. FBI worked like a charm, and in this case; perfect backup.

His eyes found a scar on the left side of her neck. If any professionals had stitched that one up, there might have been a lawsuit of some sorts. He relaxed a bit, but he was not ready to jump for it.

"What did you say your name were?" Sammy asked after a few seconds of silence."

"Oh, I'm so sorry… I'm Charity Raymonds..."

"Well, my name is Sam Krueger. This is my co-worker Dean Adams…"

"Co-worker?"

"Yeah, we're with the FBI, miss." Dean said as he flipped open his fake FBI credentials.

"Are you out here alone?" Sammy asked.

"No, my brother is here too. But I couldn't find him anywhere…"

Her voice trembled a bit, but not as much as one would expect. This fueled Dean's notion even more…

Dean contemplated what way would be the best to ask her if she was a hunter, he had to be smart about it. In a way that he could just brush it off as a simple question. Damn, hunters should have a secret code-word or something…

He felt ridiculous as he acted like he suddenly saw her scar, worst case scenario; she was embarrassed about it…

"Ouch, that must've been painful." He pointed to the same place, but on his own neck.

Her hand reached up to touch the scar.

"No, not really…" she said with a shy smile.

"May I ask how you got it?"

Charity tilted her head, eyes searching his face carefully. She bit her lip a little nervously.

"Hunting accident, I was eighteen…"

First now did Sammy catch on to his brother's trail of thoughts.

"Like deer or elk? Or more dangerous game?" Dean's lip curved upward in the corners.

"I'd like to see the elk that would have managed this…" she said and rolled her eyes.

"So, you're a hunter?"

She nodded.

"A _hunter?_ " Dean emphasized the word heavily.

"Are you _hunters_ too?"

"Yeah…" Sammy nodded.

She smiled

"Well… Then I'm not with the wildlife service then…" a smile spread across her face.

"Do you think it's a Wendigo too?" she asked after a few minutes of silence.

Dean nodded.

"Are you alright with being here until we get this mess cleaned up?" he asked.

"Yeah, my leg's not bothering me… Just thought I had to act it up when I heard you two wandering about up there… Safer for regular people to be in the city I guess…"

Sammy smiled and nodded.

"Yeah, I guess so..." he paused and looked at her, "Can you hunt?"

" 'course I can!"

SPNSPNSPN

The three of them sneaked into the smelly cave. Dean could not fathom how anything could live with that smell, not even fugly creatures like Wendigoes…

All his thoughts about how the cave smelled was cut short when he was forcefully jerked away from the group. He let out a cry. Part shock, part pain…

"Dean!" was the last thing he heard before he got knocked out…

 **I know it might be a cheap-shot to make Charity a hunter. And not hurt at all... I know...**

 **Do any of you see what's coming in the next chapter.  
Hint; There will probably be a lot of it!**

 **Once again thanks for the amazing reviews!**


	5. Hanging around

**Again, thank you all so much for the reviews!**

 **Here's another chapter, and the answer to the question was pain. (Relax, there will be even more later...)**

Dean woke up, hanging from the ceiling in another dirty cave for the second time in less than two months. He seriously had to stop this habit…

He groaned as his body hooked up to his nervous system again. All of his aches slowly making themselves known again. His left shoulder was screaming at him, and Dean wasn't sure whether it already was dislocated, or only threatened to pop out of its socket. That shoulder gone out so many times, it was almost more often than he did…

He winced as his right leg logged on the web. He felt instantly nauseous as the waves of pain hit him. IT felt wrong. Not like I need that surgery as fast as I can get it, wrong. But; Thank God Sammy knows about my knee, and I can hobble around on crutches the next two weeks, wrong…

He let out a throaty growl of discomfort, and sure hoped Sammy and Charity would find him soon.

He froze when he heard a noise. It sounded like someone in distress.

"Wait, 's somebody here?!" he asked across the dark space he was in.

Somebody let out a pregnant sigh of relief.

"Yeah… I'm hanging over here… I thought you were that thing…"

"The Wendigo?"

"Yes… You're a hunter I take it…"

"Yup. You too?"

"Aha…"

"You Charity's brother?"

"Sure am!" the man in the dark sounded proud, and by what Dean had seen; he had every reason to be…

"Are you also strung up from the roof?" the fellow hunter asked after a few seconds had passed.

"Yeah… Sorry…" Dean sighed, "My brother and Charity are probably looking for us as we speak…"

"Good." The man paused, "You hurt?"

Dean evaluated the question before he answered.

"Yeah, a bit…" he winced as his leg started pulsing, "How 'bout you?"

"Just bruises and scrapes, nothing that needs stitches atleast…"

"Good…"

SPNSPNSPN

Sam and Charity walked slowly through the cave system. This time it wasn't a mine-shaft, but a natural cave. Which meant that they had to be very aware of their surroundings, in case the floor of the cave suddenly disappeared before their feet.

The progress was slow, even though they worked as quickly as they could… None of them wanted their brothers to be stuck in the Wendigo's cave any longer than necessary.

The sound of his brother's scream haunted Sam's mind. He had sounded like he was in a great deal of pain. Sam hoped that he was wrong, and that it was only panic he had heard.

Charity walked beside him, covering their left side.

It took them 20 full minutes to find the right cave-room, both their brothers were hanging from the ceiling. They weren't alone, four of the missing hikers were still in there.

Sam ran towards his brother, Dean was barely conscious. Almost in a meditative state. He stirred when Sam touched him, his eyes fluttered open. And Sam was in no doubt; his brother was hurt. He could see it in his eyes. The way the crinkles around his eyes showed, but there were no trace of a smile… The way his eyes were all watery… The way his eyes were steel-set, straight ahead…  
His older brother was in pain.

"Hey, Dean, I'm here…" his hands dabbed over his brother's body, checking for external wounds.

Dean tried pulling himself up, to relieve the pressure on his chest. He jolted back down, as his shoulder finally slipped out with a loud pop.

He cried out in pain and anger.

"I'm gonna get you down, hang on…"

"Like I have any damn choice…" Dean's gruff voice answered him a moment later.

Charity had managed to cut her brother, Jason, down. Considering the circumstances, he was doing fine. As he had said earlier, just scrapes and bruises…

"Do you need some help?" Jason offered as he walked over to the boys.

Sam nodded, "Yeah, he probably won't be able to stand when I cut the rope…"

Sam's heart sank a few feet when he saw his brother nodding agreeingly in the dim light of his flashlight.

"Bum leg?" Jason asked as he and Charity got themselves ready to catch Dean as the rope was cut.

Dean nodded again, and Sam got a real bad feeling about all of this… It was not like his brother to admit he was in pain, or hurt. And two for two within the same minute held promises about the severity of it…

Dean let out a near inhuman growl as he landed in the arms of Jason and Charity. His hands shooting down towards his right knee…

Charity and Jason put Dean down, leaned up against one of the walls. Sam had a mild flashback from the last wendigo-hunt, seeing his brother again propped up against the wall of a cave. Once again his right leg stretched out straight in front of him, but this time he admitted the pain…

"Go see if the others are alive…" Dean commanded with a raw voice, drained for energy.

Sam stayed, loosening the piece of rope that still tied Dean's hands together.

"How bad?" Sam whispered his question, loud enough for only them to hear.

"I'll be fine… Might need a few days worth of rest though…"

"You'll get it…" Sam saw no need to argue with his injured brother, even if he thought that Dean should have his next surgery as soon as possible.

SPNSPNSPN

Dean tried popping his own shoulder back to where it should be, but had no such luck.

"Errr… Sammy…"

"Yeah, Dean?"

"My shoulder… It's dislocated… Could… Could you… You know…"

Sammy nodded.

"The left one?"

"Mhmm… How'd you know?"

"Cause it's almost always your left one…" That and the fact that he usually specified it when it was his right…

Dean nodded slowly, "Right…"

Sam counted to two, and pushed the top of the humerus back to where it should be. Neatly snuggled inside the socket.

Dean groaned, and doubled over… But he quickly regained his composure.

"Thanks, bro."

"Don't worry 'bout it…" Sammy almost smiled and patted Dean's right shoulder.

It turned out that one the missing hikers inside the cave was alive, but too exhausted from hanging from his arms to walk back to civilization just yet.

So they waited. Sammy used the time to make his brother as comfortable as possible, when truth was that the only thing that would have comforted him at that point was a morphine-drip.

Without warning a loud and bone-chilling growl erupted from the corridor leading outside.

"Oh my God! It's back! Oh God, the monster is back!" the surviving hiker cried. And Charity tried to calm him down…

SPNSPNSPN

Killing the thing turned out to be an easier task than first expected, but Dean had managed to grab one of the flare guns he had brought, and shot the Wendigo straight in the chest when it entered the lair. With a scream that seemed to rip through flesh and bone, it burst into flames and disappeared forever.

"Now, let's get out of here…" Dean declared and tried to push himself to his feet, only to crash back down again. He knitted his hands into fists, and tried to breathe through the pain he had caused himself. His knuckles turned white because of the pressure.

"Might need some help though…" he sheepishly admitted in a small voice, eyes barely meeting Sammy's.

 **Well, what did you think?**

 **Personally I think the killing of the Wendigo went a little too smoothly... But hey... They're not back to their car yet...**

 **As for the Dean torture... I suppose there will be a lot more of it... Don't you think so?**

 **Thanks for the reviews so far! It warms my heart to read them! Thanks!**


	6. Wendigoes SUCK!

**Hello again!**

 **Here comes another chapter...**  
 **ENJOY...**

Sammy doubled as Dean's crutch on their way back out of the tunnel. One painful limping step at a time.

Dean's knee had really seized up, it felt like it had been freshly broken, though he knew better. It hurt for now, sure… But a couple of weeks from now it would be back to its normal self. He was grateful that Sammy was there, he had wound up hurt like this on solo-hunts and one thing was for sure… Crawling your way back to your car was painful as hell…

"Oh CRAP!" his boot had connected with a rock or something, and it sent large amounts of pain through his leg. He hissed and cussed some more as his little brother stood there, keeping him from collapsing completely.

"Whoa… Easy there…" Sammy's warm and caring voice made its way in Dean's ear, calming him ever so slightly.

A minute or so later, he was ready for another round. And he would NOT agree to being carried out of there. Not even if it was the last thing that happened to him…

"How's it going?" the survivor, Allan, asked. He had with the help of two chocolate bars and a bottle of water regained much of his strength.

" 'M hanging in here Allan. Hanging on…" the weariness in his voice was too deep to hide. And, HELL, he deserved to be exhausted. His body was breaking down. Somewhere between his tenth birthday and now, his body had started having way more aches and quirks than what regular people had.

His shoulder for instance.  
The first time he had dislocated it, he had been nine… The first four times it happened had been painful. Scratch out your eyeballs with a wooden fork, painful… He had followed doctor's orders the first three and a half times… He had worn a sling, and minimized how much he moved around… A burglar on his way into their motel room had cut the doc's orders following short on his fourth time dislocating it…  
The burglar probably never burgled again though…

Now his shoulder slid in and out as much as it pleased. And it wasn't often that it got *stuck* either… He usually managed shoving it back on his own, he still needed help every now and then… Like today…  
He knew it would be sore tomorrow, but nothing he couldn't handle…

"Good, I'm sorry 'bout your knee…" Allan said casting a glimpse down in that general direction.

"Don't worry about it, it kinda comes with the territory…" Dean attempted a smile, well knowing of the pain he would be feeling for some time to come…

SPNSPNSPN

They could finally see the light coming from the outside of the cave, they were soon free!

"It smells like cadaver here…" Charity thought out loud, and covered her nose.

"Yeah… It does…" Dean became a little more alert. "It didn't smell like that 60 yards ago, did it?"

In the dim lighting he could see Charity shake her blonde head.

Without warning a scream erupted from a side tunnel they had completely overlooked. And before they knew it, Charity was missing.

SPNSPNSPN

"What the HELL?" Jason breathed.

"There's more than one!" Dean yelled back.

"You've got to be kidding me?!" Sammy and Allan both cried in dismay.

"You and Sammy go kill that thing, and bring Charity back. I'll stay with Allan here, and keep him safe." Dean commanded Jason, who nodded.

Sammy left Dean with two flare guns, and brought their remaining three with him and Jason. Jason was armed with a spray can and a lighter. Homemade, improvised torch.

Dean was now partially draped over Allan's shoulders. They decided to head for the opening and get out of there. They were of no use to the hunting party, since Dean's leg was un-walkable, and Allan was inexperienced as fuck…

Allan and Dean were just about to step outside when something grabbed a hold of Dean's legs, jerking him down.

Dean screamed, he was sure something popped inside his knee. He flung his body around and aimed for the BITCH dragging him. As he started to squeeze the trigger, a shot sounded from somewhere close and the wendigo gripped it's chest. Flames licking between its fingers. Then it went up in flames.

Dean let his head fall back, resting on the ground. He cast a glance at Allan, who was standing quivering in the opening of the tunnel. His flare gun still aimed at where the wendigo had been.

"Thanks!" Dean groaned, trying his best to get his damn pains under control. His knee, and leg in general, was hurting more than it had in a long time.

SPNSPNSPN

Further inside the cave system, Jason had managed to blast the Wendigo that had snatched Charity. And they had found two more survivors. That wendigo hadn't killed anyone this year, and it would never kill again.

They lead the survivors outside, where they found Allan and Dean telling them that there had been ANOTHER wendigo going after THEM.

"Dude, I really didn't think those fugly creatures lived in packs. Sure as hell never heard about it!" Dean muttered through his teeth. His leg was doing its best to kill him with pain.

"Yeah… I've never heard about it either…" Jason agreed.

"Wendigoes SUCK!" Dean finally complained out loud.  
Sam nodded.

Two plus four equals SIX. Which again meant that FOUR was still missing.  
Four people that still COULD be ALIVE!

Sam's instincts told him to get back inside, and search. But Dean was badly hurt.

His brother laid propped up against a fallen tree, his right leg was elevated up on Allan's backpack. He trembled every now and then, causing his leg to jostle, hurting him more…

He had lost all color, he truly looked SICK. Though it was probably only the agony he was in that caused him to look like that.

"Dean, how are you holding up buddy?" Sam placed his palm on his brother's right shoulder.

Pained green eyes looked up at him. Sam felt his heart sink, again. How could the world be so cruel to his big brother? Wasn't the fire all those years ago enough?

"It hUrts…" Dean's voice cracked, and Sam _knew_ just about how bad it was. He knew that his brother wouldn't be walking without aid for at least a month… Maybe more…

He knew Dean shouldn't have joined in on this hunt. He knew it was a bad idea…  
But still… Dean was his big brother, old enough to make his own stupid decisions…

… But Sam would always blame himself when things went wrong like this. When he had known…

"Sam, You stay here with your brother and the hikers. Charity and I can find the last lair ourselves…"

"You sure?" he looked up at the fellow hunter.

"Yeah… Besides… Your brother need you…" Jason smiled a brief second, but then it faded. "Just, keep them safe… Okay?"

He gestured to the small group of surviving hikers. Sam nodded. Then Jason and Charity headed back inside the cave, ready to find the last lair. And hopefully more survivors.

 **I want to thank y'all for your reviews/comments!**

 **And I hope you still find this story interresting.**

 **I should probably get along to some fluffy moments... Shouldn't I...?**  
 **This hurt probably needs a little comfort too... ?**

 **I _probably_ won't send Dean away to NYC straight away though...**  
 **He's too fun to play around with...**  
 **Anybody mind?**

 **Well... I hope you liked it this far!**


	7. Getting out

**Thank you all so freaking much for all the GREAT comments!  
*Does a happy dance***

 **Here comes another chapter for you!  
Hope you enjoy it!**

Sammy stayed with him. He checked Dean's leg. Poking, prodding, twisting it ever so slightly.

Dean flinched under Sammy's touch, his leg was making him nauseous. His stomach churned as pain shot through his leg. The pain ten-folded when Sammy started moving his leg around. The 'stationary-exams' had been painful enough, but when Sammy started moving him…. Dean was positive that he was gonna hurl…

"Sorry…" Sammy's voice broke through the silence. He had noticed how Dean had stiffened up, how his hand wrapped around fistfuls of dirt.

" 'M Okay…" Dean lied. Sammy knew it, but he didn't want to irritate Dean.

"Good…"

SPNSPNSPN

Allan looked at the two tall brothers. The shorter one seemed to be in grave pain. And judging by the fact that all this seemed to be quite normal for them, he didn't want to know what the boys' pain-tolerance levels were…

He saw the shorter one, Dean, flinch as his brother checked his knee. He looked like he was about to buck under and succumb to the aches he was battling.

The young man let out a heart-shattering moan. Allan felt guilt cloud his mind, his intellectual brain saw no natural explanation for it, but he felt guilty…

He looked over at the two other survivors. Anna and Frank. Anna seemed relatively unharmed, Frank had a broken arm…

Frank _seemed_ to be in an equal amount of pain, but from what Allan had seen up to this point… He was about ready to bet his life that what was bothering Dean would nearly have killed Frank…

SPNSPNSPN

Dean fought against the urge to leave his breakfast and lunch right then and there. His knee still felt like it was in the process of being RIPPED apart. And his little brother field-testing it only made the pain worsen.

He swallowed heard. Forcing the bile back down his throat.

He sure would need crutches for a while. The operation seemed like a better option for every passing second. But he didn't have time for all that right now. He never really had time for that…

The pain was too much for him, he tipped over and left his lunch on the ground beside him. The sudden movement ripped at what seemed to be left of his right knee. Which only caused him to retch even more…

"It's gonna be fine Dean!" Sammy said, patting his back. Doing his best to comfort him.

"I know…" he managed to croak out between heaves.

SPNSPNSPN

A full hour later, Charity and Jason returned. Jason was carrying a person, and another man was leaning heavily on Charity's shoulders. He had a limp. Of course it was nothing compared to Dean's leg... But he was still hurt…

"You find all four?"

Charity nodded grimly. Her posture telling them what they needed to know about the final two hikers.

"Let's get the fuck outta here then!" Dean cut in, and tried pushing himself off the ground. Only to crash back down in pain.

"Yeah… Let's get out of here…" Sammy agreed and helped Dean off the ground. "You think you're good to hobble out from this place?"

Gasping, Dean nodded and clutched onto his brother.

"You know… We could ca…"

"THERE'S NO WAY IN HELL I'M BEING CARRIED OUTTA HERE! SAMMY!"

"Okay… Okay, Dean…"

SPNSPNSPN

The hike back to their cars took forever. They were forced to take frequent stops because of him, and Dean loathed himself for it. If it weren't for him, they'd all be out of the woods and in nice warm cars instead of the crisp late autumn air.

He was tired, all he really wanted to do was sleep. Sleep for a whole month if it was possible…

"The parking lot is just above that hill." His little brother encouraged him, and the others.

"Great." Dean acknowledged through gritted teeth.

His leg was throbbing like a stampede. His main focus was on keeping the limb still. Avoid moving it too much at least…

He breathed a sigh of relief when they topped the hill, and he saw his beloved Impala. He was home…

Sammy positioned him against the Impala's hood, while he handed out their phone number to the six surviving hikers, and Jason.

Charity had walked over to where Dean stood leaned up against the big, black muscle car. She leaned on the hood right beside him.

"I hope you get better soon…" she nodded towards his leg, then her eyes met his.

"Yeah… I hope so too…" he smiled at her.

"I kinda hope our paths cross again in the future…" she smiled at him, her brown eyes twinkling with the sun.

"Yeah… That would be nice…" Dean smirked back. Giving himself the right to wipe away a stray lock of curly blonde hair that had fallen across her face.

She chuckled and looked straight at him.

"You know… If I didn't know that you just puked like 20 minutes ago…" she paused, "I'd kiss you…"

Dean let out a short laugh.

"I'd like that…" he smiled at her, "Rain-check?"

"Definitely!" a smile lighted up her face. And she blushed.

"Here's my number…" she gave him a piece of paper with a number scribbled on it, "If you ever feel lonely…"

He smiled and took the note, checking it before he pocketed it. Then he pulled out his wallet and fished up a business card like card, scribbled his _personal_ number on the backside of it, then he handed it to her.

"If you ever feel bored…"

"Winchester's termination…" she read, "We get rid of what other pest-controls can't…"

Dean chuckled…

"Yeah… That's our work numbers on the front…"

She smiled at him and gave him a peck on the cheek, which he returned with a hug.

"So… When can I use this number?" she asked waving the card in front of her. Casually moving her shoulders in a way that made her breasts jiggle.

"Whenever you want, sugar. Just let me brush my teeth first…" he winked at her.

"Good…" she smiled at him again, "Same goes for my number… Whenever you want, doesn't matter if you wanna meet up or just have a chat…"

She stepped around to stand straightly in front of him, careful not to touch his legs. Then she let her left hand brush against the side of his chest, and trail down his abdomen, resting at his hip.

Her brown eyes were locked on his green ones.

SPNSPNSPN

Two hours later, the boys were back in their motel room. Dean had managed, with a great amount of pain involved, to take a shower and brush his teeth. Now he was positioned on the bed, his right leg carefully propped up in front of him and five bags of peas cooling his injuries. The painkillers he'd taken was slowly starting to work their magic on him.

He had persuaded Sammy into having a night out, and that they would go to the doctor the next day… If his leg was still as painful then…

He fumbled with his phone. He had saved Charity's number on it, but he still wasn't sure whether he should call her or not…

He took a deep breath, dialed the number. But he cancelled it before it even hooked up.

Two minutes later, his phone started buzzing where it laid on his chest. He picked it up, and smiled as he saw the caller ID.

He accepted the call and put the phone to his ear.

"Hey Dean…" her smooth voice danced inside his ear.

"Hello yourself!" he said with a smile on his face. "I was just about to call…"

"Good…" he could hear that she smiled too, and his heart skipped a beat. "Mind if I come over?"

"No, not at all! We could order a pizza or something… Watch TV and just chill together…"

"Sounds good! Where are you staying at?"

"Paul's inn. You know where that is?"

"We drove past it on our way in to town. We're staying at a friend's hunting cabin…"

Dean nodded, "Well… I'll see you soon then?"

"In about ten minutes, I guess."

SPNSPNSPN

Ten minutes or so later, there was a knock on the door. Dean grabbed his crutches and pushed himself to his feet. Wincing as his leg protested at the sudden movement.

He hobbled over to the door, and pulled his gun. Normal procedure. He unlocked the door, but left the chain on. Opened it a bit, and found Charity standing patiently waiting.

"So… Do you want me to drink some holy water… Or do you want to throw it at me…?"

Dean smiled at her. Handed her one of the two glasses he had placed by the door, and drank the other one himself.

No reaction. Great!

He closed the door, and loosened the chain too. Moved away and let her step in.

She was beautiful. His kind of beautiful. She was dressed in a worn, skin tight pair of jeans. A singlet and a shirt that might as well have been Jason's once upon a time. Her curly blonde hair was pulled up in a ponytail, and the only kind of makeup she might have on was regular carmex…

She moved in close, and kissed him. He let his left crutch drop, and wrapped his free hand around her waist. Kissing her passionately.

 **Too much pain? Too little? Just right?**

 **I felt Dean needed a little flame, something sweet... And NOT so innocent... But with his current handicap, they will of course have to take it slow as fuck... I suspect nothing but mostly kissing from them two for the time being...  
...OR maybe..  
My head gets all these pictures right now... I think I'll mull over it a little...  
What do you think?**

 **Anyone want an 'innocent', sweet and possibly hot-ish fluffy scene between Dean and Charity as they're hanging out together for the first time, eating pizza and relaxing...?**

 **BTW... All I could think off after that phone call was the word chill...  
Which reasonably converted into Netflix and Chill...  
Which again... I'm pretty sure Dean's leg is not up for just yet...  
(Would of course have been TV and Chill though...)**

 **Okay... I'm ranting...  
It's time to stop...**

 **Hope you enjoyed this chapter too!**


	8. Just a one night stand

**Here comes another chap for you...**

 **Hope you don't hate it...**

"There… Rain-check cashed…" she smiled up at him.

Puzzled he smiled back at her. "I guess it is…"

She winked at him and placed a kiss on his cheek again. She took a step backwards, bent down and picked up his crutch.

"You know how this is going to end… Don't you?"

Dean nodded.

"We're going to have fun tonight, promise to spend time together every now and then… But there will never be time for it…" he sighed. He knew what hunting meant. He knew that he could never really get attached to anyone.

"Yeah…" her eyes held a sadness. "We can't ever really have a relationship… Not in that way anyway…"

Dean nodded.

"But… We can act like we're normal for the night. Act like we're married, have 2.5 kids, mortgage and 9 to 5 jobs… Just for the night… Are you up for that?"

Dean smiled.

"Aaand, if we ever meet again… Just by chance… We can play it all over again…" she winked at him.

Dean pressed his lips together. Well knowing that he would never have that apple pie life, Charity knew it too… And it seemed like they both longed for it…

"Deal…" he said and nodded.

"Deal!" she beamed.

"It's kinda a messed up one night stand…"

She nodded, "Yeah… Kinda like that…"

"No real strings attached… Right?"

She nodded.

"A huntress gotta do what she's gotta do to have some normalcy in her life… Right?"

Dean shook his head, smiling.

"So… What would our normal family do on a day like this?" she asked after a long pause.

Dean shrugged. He honestly had no idea what normal families did these days.

"2.5 kids?" he asked.

"Let's say we have a babysitter…"

Dean let out a short laugh, then he nodded. "How's the half kid doing?"

She shrugged. "No friggin' clue…"

She suddenly realized that she still was holding Dean's crutch in her hand, and handed it over to him.

"So… How long have we been married?" he asked as he placed the crutch back under his arm.

"Considering that we have two and a half kids, however that is possible, let's say somewhere between 5 and 10 years."

"How old are you?"

"25… Why do you ask?"

"We could say we married when you were 19. I was 20…"

"Sounds good to me…" she smiled, before changing the subject. "How'd you hurt your leg?"

"Oh… I jumped between two buildings in New York, had a werewolf after me… Landed shitty…"

"Not in this life, you idiot… In our play pretend world…"

"Oh…" Dean let his head loll back, "Right…"

SPNSPNSPN

Dean got himself settled comfortably back on the bed. He was a 26 year old, married man. He and his wife had two kids, and were planning for a third. And he worked as a mechanic at the local auto shop.

His leg was injured because of a motorcycle accident, you know… Normal stuff…

And yeah… It was their sixth anniversary… That was why their kids were with a babysitter…

They were just laying there, her head on his chest, his left arm draped around her.

He had always wondered how his life would have turned out if he didn't hunt. Why the hell not play pretend when no one else looked at him. Sammy didn't need to know anyway…

"Honey, do you want to order in? Or should we go out somewhere?" he smiled down at her.

"Is your leg good enough for a drive?"

"Phfff… Yeah… And I wouldn't be a man if I didn't take my lady out to eat on our anniversary!"

"You sure?"

Dean nodded, and grabbed after his crutches. "Let's go paint the town!"

He couldn't quite remember how many pain pills he had taken, but his leg wasn't bothering him more than a moderate sprain would have… He figured he would be fine, he just had to take it slow…  
The only problems with painkillers is that you might even forget that you ever had any pain… And _that_ could come around and bite you in the ass…

SPNSPNSPN

They found a little half-fancy restaurant a few streets down. They drove in Charity's red pickup truck.

She parked close to the door, they got out and walked inside.

They got a table, ate and enjoyed their evening as married people. Fooling everyone to believe it was their anniversary. Charity had enjoyed a couple of drinks, Dean had _remembered_ not to mix alcohol and pain meds.

Then they went back to the motel room and did, well… Grown up stuff…

SPNSPNSPN

Hours later, Charity was still there… And Dean's meds started wearing off. It had started with a dull throbbing… Then it had grown into a real throbbing, and now it was a STABBING pain.

They had been careful, and kept his leg in mind during their activities… Dean wasn't sure whether it was what happened during the hunt that caused him this much pain, or whether it was the sitting with his knee bent at the restaurant, or the sex…

One thing he was sure of was that if the pills he'd taken about half an hour ago didn't start working soon, he would turn crazy.

He had had a fun night though. A little variation to his regular one night stands, which was good. Maybe not worth the pain he was dealing with right now, but it had been fun while it lasted.

"I'm sorry…" Charity said, replacing one of the pea-bags with a fresh and frozen one.

"Don't be…" Dean grimaced, "I'm an adult, I should have known better!"

He gritted his teeth as his knee felt like it was being struck by lightning again.

SPNSPNSPN

The next morning, they kissed goodbye and Jason and Charity rolled out of town. Dean promised himself not to think of her as anything other than what she had been. A one night stand.

His knee felt better now, at least better than what it had felt like 3 a.m. in the morning. When it had kept him awake.

It was NOT any better than when Sammy had left though… And he had made a deal with his brother… He was going to see a doctor…

He crossed his fingers for nothing serious. Well… Nothing more serious than what he knew was already wrong with his knee…

 **Well... THAT was a BUMPY RIDE!**

 **I would like to claim the fact that one does not make great decisions while on strong meds. That's why Dean forgot to think about the regret he might feel about the sex and the fact that he hadn't just rested...**

 **I also would like to defend myself for this chapter. I know it's FAAAAR from the best I could have written, and that it probably doesn't make sense to anybody but me... (It's mildly inspired by one time my best buddy and I pretended to have our shit together. We both had the best evening we had had in a loooong time. It was fun for us, so I thought Dean would like a version of it where he could pretend he was normal for a night. )**

 **This is the last you'll se of Charity in this story, but at request I could spin up a story of them meeting again. And of course expand this first night with them...  
But for now, it's only a weird as hell one night stand...**

 **I hope ya'll made it through this chap.  
I'll be back with more hurt!Dean and some brotherly fluff soon. **

**Please do tell me what you think, even though I know I wrote myself into a trap there...  
This is what happens when I post as I write... Sorry...**


	9. Rest

**Here comes another chapter.  
I personally think it's way better than the last one...**

 **Hope you enjoy it!**

Dean struggled out of the hospital towards the parking lot where Sammy sat waiting in the car.

He'd been lucky, the hunt hadn't provided him with new injuries… It had only ripped at the old ones, making them flare up again.

 _No, moving won't exactly hurt you any more… But it will cause you pain…_ That was really all he had needed to hear. After that he had promised he would rest and let himself get better… And yeah… Of course have a surgery done to his knee… But that could wait a little while…

"How'd it go?" his brother asked slightly anxious.

"Just fine and dandy…" Dean answered as he maneuvered himself into the passenger seat. "Got another prescription for painkillers…"

Dean flashed the prescription for Sammy to see…

Sammy huffed a laugh. "Dude, what you really need is bedrest! What the hell did you do tonight?"

"Nothing!"

"Well, anyway… You look like you could use a week's worth of rest…"

Dean was about to complain, but Sammy cut him off before he got the chance to start.

"No discussion. You look like crap Dean! And that knee of yours needs it!"

Sammy drove straight back to the motel. Ready to get Dean settled inside.

SPNSPNSPN

Once Dean was settled nicely inside, the TV on and the remote on his nightstand, and bags icing down his leg, he looked up at his younger brother about to head out the door again.

"Yo, Sammy!"

Sam turned on his heel, alert.

"In the trunk… There's this fugly brace thing… It would cover almost all of my leg…" he let his eyes fall down to his own feet before he continued, a little ashamed for asking. "Could you bring it in here for me?"

"You're not planning to walk around, do you?"

"No..." Dean shook his head, "But it keeps me from jostling my knee…"

When he finally looked back up, Sam's heart broke. He had never seen his brother looking so much like a lost and hurt puppy.

He just nodded and headed out to find it.

Ten minutes later, Dean was in the act of strapping the thing to his bad leg. It pained Sam to see how familiar his hands was with the maze of Velcro straps.

When Sam left a few minutes later, Dean was fast asleep on his bed. Pain still visible in his face…

SPNSPNSPN

After a while, Sam found himself at a mall. He had decided to leave Dean alone for a few hours. It would probably be easier for him to sleep that way.

He had bought some new clothes for the both of them, since just about everything they owned was either worn to shreds, or thorn to shreds.

He bought a coffee at a small Starbucks, and sat there for a while. Reading a book he had brought with him. His latte tasted just right, and he drank it slowly. Enjoying every sip, well knowing that Dean would either call _him_ a girl, or call the coffee a science project.

Then he drifted around the mall for a while, until he started getting hungry. Figuring his brother would like some comfort-food, he bought two large pizzas. Whatever they didn't eat then and there could be eaten later on.

On his way back to the parking lot, he walked past a bakery. Pie. He should probably buy some pie for his brother too… He hurried inside, and bought enough for his injured brother in sulking mood…  
Which was the mood he expected to be met with when he went back…

 **I hope I made up for the last chapter.**

 **Hope you liked this one, and didn't entirely lose faith in me by the last one...**

 **Thanks for all the amazing comments so far!  
Hope you're having at least half as fun as I am having!**

 **Sooo... Poll for the next chap;  
Shameless pain...  
.or.  
Brotherly fluff...**


	10. Pizza

**Here comes another chapter for you guys!**

 **Thank you all so much for the awesome comments!**

He was awoken by his brother all but crashing through the door.

"Sammy! Could you try to be quiet for ONCE IN YOUR DAMNED LIFE?" a strained wrinkle was etched into his forehead. His knee was really having a ball with him.

"Sorry…" Sammy muttered placing the shopping bags on the table. Then he headed back outside for the pizzas and the pie.

Dean was a little more awake when he returned.

"Whatcha got there, Sammy?" his voice was strained, Dean hated that he could hear it himself. That meant Sammy would pick it up too…

"Pizza and pie…" his little brother answered placing the cartons on the table next to the bags with their new clothes. "How's your leg treating you? You look like crap!"

Dean only nodded and reached for his crutches, ready to join his brother at the table.

Agony shot through his limb, even before he got his ass entirely off the bed. He crashed back down, hands darting down to steady his injured knee. He wouldn't be able to steady it any more than the brace wrapping around his leg already did, but it was an old and perfected reflex…

"SONOVAFRIGGINBITCH!" Dean yelped. Sammy was at his side in an instant.

"God, Dean! Take it easy!" Sammy grabbed the extra pillows from his bed, and placed them behind his brother's back. Then he skirted over to the coach and pulled out the loose cushions, adding to the support of his brother's back. "You don't have to get up!"

Dean was still gritting his teeth; his eyes squeezed shut because of the pain that had attacked him.

"Where's your meds Dean? I think it's safe to say that you could use another pill or two just about now…"

Dean didn't say anything, just pointed towards his duffle bag lying in the corner of the room.

Sammy picked it up, and started rummaging through it. It wasn't the first time in his life he had sorted through Dean's personal belongings, but it was the first time since Stanford.

The first thing his fingers touched was neoprene. He felt a sudden stab of sadness, and anger towards himself, for not having noticed earlier that his brother suffered. He counted four of them. Four neoprene braces… His heart sank….

He found some old worn-out clothes, and some old keepsakes he honestly didn't expect Dean to keep with him. Not now when they were both were all grown up.

He pushed away the sudden attack of feelings, and continued his search. His hand finally finding a familiar shape. He pulled out the little orange container, and read the label, OXYCODONE. That was it.

"One or two?"

Dean held up two fingers, not entirely trusting his own voice yet….

Sammy placed two pills in his brother's hand, then he walked over to the sink and poured Dean a glass of water.

"Thanks…" Dean croaked out, his voice frail and hurt.

"Hey… That's what little brothers are for, remember?" Sammy said and patted his brother's shoulder, dismayed when Dean flinched away under his touch. He had entirely forgotten about the shoulder… "I'm sorry…"

Dean shook his head… "Basically just a bruise…"

SPNSPNSPN

Minutes later he served his brother up two pieces of pizza as a start, happy to find that his brother's appetite slowly returned.

They tuned the TV in on an action movie. Both knowing that their lives would kick the movie's ass… But hey… Comic relief?

"Dude, I remember one time…" Dean started in between bites of pepperoni pizza, his voice on its way back to normal, "You were what… Twelve I guess… We were staying at Bobby's for a while, since I had torn my shoulder apart on a hunt. Some fugly bastard mutant-elk-human-hybrid… Never seen one before, never heard about one later…"

He shoved another piece of pizza into his mouth as Sammy listened carefully. He remembered a lot of times when they had stayed at uncle Bobby's. He even remembered a few times that fit the general description of what Dean was talking about, but he couldn't remember anything worth mentioning right now as a 'remember-when…'

"You were fuzzing over how boring it was staying inside all the time… It was winter, and freezing outside… And man, I agreed!" he nodded thoughtfully, "I guess uncle Bobby felt sorry for our pathetic asses, because the man baked. For the first time in God-damned-ever, at least that I know of, uncle Bobby baked us homemade buns, with raisins. And then he cooked up some hot-chocolate… And we just watched a movie…"

Sammy smiled, remembering the moment.

"Yeah…" he said knowingly, "And he was actually pretty good at baking!"

"You bet he was!"

Then they sat there in silence for a while, the only sounds in the room was the movie and the sound of them devouring their pizza slices.

"We should probably visit him soon, you know… Just for fun…"

Sammy nodded, "That would be great…"

"Yeah…" Dean stared blankly out in the air in front of him, secretly hoping that the threat of a buckshot shower wasn't including him…

 **More to come I guess...**

 **Hope you're still enjoying this.**

 **More shamelessness is coming, aaand more fluffy scenes too, I guess...**


	11. Floored it!

**Pheeeew... Long hard day at work, one guy had already asked for a free saturday... And then at 6:03 a.m. another guy texted me, and called in sick. Which left us with ONLY three people in the department I'm in... And it was a rush day... Marathon on concrete-floors I tell you...  
And yeah, to top that off, yesterday I trained parkour for the first time since i hurt my own knee (back in MAY) and I knew I was sore even before I knew I was awake this morning... (Luckily there is no such remedy to soreness and stiffness after workout, as getting your heart pumping and to sweat a bit... Probly be less sore tomorrow...)**

 **Okay, sorry for that... I just felt like complaining to someone...  
And I didn't want to complain to my two flatmates... Because...  
Stuff...**

 **Anyway... Rant OVER...**

 **Here's another chap for you! Hope you enjoy it...**

Sam woke bright and early the next morning. His brother was still in an unconscious state as he tip-toed out to the street. He figured he could bring back some coffee, but all he really needed was a walk.

First there was Jess. He missed her gravely; he tried hiding it from Dean, but he knew it wouldn't work. He knew that Dean could read him like nobody's business.

Then there was his life. He missed being at Stanford. He missed his friends, he missed his schedules. He missed the daily routines…

Last but not least, there was Dean. His brother had been injured while they were apart. He had been through one surgery, knowing that he would need more… His big brother had acted like everything was fine, like nothing was wrong. Well, except their missing dad… He had hidden his pain, and Sam expected that it was because of him. He was willing to bet big bucks on Dean hiding his injury and pain to spare him the worry…

Dean was an awesome older brother, but he could be damned stupid sometimes…

He didn't entirely understand Dean's obsession with watching out for him. He understood the basics, like why he wanted him to stay safe, and not get shot, stabbed, burned and such… He felt the same way…  
What he DIDN'T understand though, was why Dean tried to spare him from things like this…

What was so heinously wrong with letting his little brother know that his knee was busted? He sure wasn't any less of a man…  
No one would zap out of thin air and kill either of them because of it… (It was still a possibility that they would get killed in that way, but not because of his brother's knee…)

Sam just couldn't understand it…

SPNSPNSPN

Dean woke up to a leg, throbbing in sync with his heart. It felt like for each heartbeat, for each time his heart forced blood around inside his being, each time it passed his knee… It hurt.

He hadn't opened his eyes yet, and he really didn't want to either… That would just confirm his fear of it being another day, another day with his hurting leg.

He just stayed there, lying flat on his back, eyes closed, willing his leg to stop antagonizing him. But it didn't change... If any, it only got that much worse…

After a quarter hour he decided to open his eyes. Pain and frustration was causing his eyes to sting with unshed tears. He cast a glimpse towards Sammy's bed. It was empty. His eyes traveled to the bathroom, the door was open. Then over to the place his ginormous little brother had kicked off his shoes last night, only to find that they were missing.

He let his head fall back down, turned his face away from the door… And found a note…

Two yellow post-its taped together so they would be able to stand up. Kinda like a house of cards, but with only two cards.

 _Dean, I'm outside getting some fresh air… I'll bring back coffee and breakfast…_

Dean felt himself relax, and his tears started falling. There were no danger in crying, when no one was around to see it…  
-All though he could hear his father's words loud and clear; _Crying is for girls and babies. Are you a girl or a baby, Dean?_

Right now, he didn't care… He could have been a newborn baby girl for all that mattered, he just _needed_ to cry.

He laid there for a long time. Staring up at the ceiling, focused on one nasty tobacco stain… He felt each teardrop adding to the wet trails down the sides of his face. Salty streaks between the outer corner of his eyes, and right above his ears.  
He shuddered a few times as stray tears every now and then made their way inside his ear.

How could this hurt so damn much. Why?

He finally decided he would have to get up at one point… Mainly because his bladder was full, way past the point that was comfortable… He put himself up on his right elbow, flung his left leg out of bed and sat up completely. He reached for the crutches leaned up against his nightstand, only to find that his left shoulder was stiff and sore… (As would be expected of a recently dislocated, and reduced shoulder…)

 _Just one more ache to bear…_ He thought as he absentmindedly rubbed at it, trying to massage the stiffness out of the surrounding muscles. _Better put some Tiger Balm on it… That will probably help…_

He lifted his right leg down, thankful that he still had the lockable brace on… He let a few tears trail down his cheeks as his heel rested on the old motel rug. His knee pounded fiercely.

A sob, a freaking sob, left his lips as he pushed himself up straight. His chest ached, not in a way that made him scared, but in that 'something-else-hurts-so-much-that-my-heart-and-lungs-hurt' hurt…

He forced himself to take deep and slow breaths. Pulling down a good lungful, holding it a few seconds, and letting it out through pressed lips. A method that had proved effective lots of times in the past.  
Pain management 101…  
Perfect for sutures, and other stuff…  
Even this…

It was a long hobble to the bathroom, each step hurt both his knee and his sore shoulder. He pushed on, hopping the last five strides on pure stubbornness alone…

SPNSPNSPN

Sam came back to the motel room 20 minutes later, expecting a cranky, sulking Dean.

What he found on the other hand, was his brother crying on the floor. Not weeping, not silently shedding some tears, but horrifyingly close to bawling.

His six-foot-two frame was sitting on the floor. His left leg was tucked up underneath his chin, his left arm hung uselessly down his side and his right hand was placed a few inches above his knee.

It didn't take him much imagination to figure out what had happened… His brother had probably been on his way back to the bed, when his unstable shoulder had come apart and sent him on a trip to the top of the floor…

Sam was about sure that some days, some days you could blow some air towards Dean's shoulder and it would dislocate… But he could never really remember that they had gotten it fixed. Not really fixed anyway…  
Sure, rest and rehabilitation had been tried a few times, but never surgery… Sam was positive the tendons around the joint was stretched two inches too long… Offering no real support…

He could feel his heart rip as he scrambled to his knees beside his brother.

"Hey, Dean… Easy… What happened?" he was on his way to placing a hand on his brother's back when Dean decided to snap at him.

"DON'T TOUCH ME! DON'T YOU F-ING TOUCH ME!" he yelled through tears and snot.

"Did you get hurt?" Sam would have smacked himself if it hadn't looked weird. Of course his brother had hurt himself, he wouldn't have been sitting on the floor if else…

Dean's retort was simple as he levered his right hand, and flipped him off.

Sam understood him. He couldn't remember seeing his brother in this much pain. Ever. At least not while still conscious…

"Your shoulder out?"

A few heartfelt sobs answered him, along with a minimalistic nod.

"You know I've got to touch you to re-set it…?"

Dean nodded again.

"Are you going to punch or shoot me if I try to pop it back in?" Sam felt slightly nervous as he asked. He had never seen Dean like this, this fragile…

Dean shook his head, trying to get some air in between hiccups of discomfort.

"Good." Sam rose to his feet, skipped over to the freezer where the not-so-frozen-peas had been refrozen time over time…

He grabbed two out of the bags, and jogged back over to his poor older brother.

He lifted his brother's chin, making sure Dean saw the cold bag, knowing where Sam intended to place it.

Dean nodded. Sam broke up the ice-clumps that had formed inside as it had re-frozen, and molded it over Dean's bad knee.

He felt a sting of guilt as his brother instantly twitched. Heck, he shouldn't have left in the first place… He should have stayed and looked after his big brother, and his dumb tough-ass-luck…

Sam winced as Dean drew a long, shaky breath. He knew how badly his brother was trying to get his act together and put on a mask.

He moved over to Dean's other side, getting himself ready to rip the joint back in for about the thousandth time in his life.

"On three…" he informed, "Ready?"

Dean nodded.

"Okay…"

.One.

.Two.

BAM!

Dean growled, and curled even more in on himself. He continued sobbing.

Sam felt like the worst brother on planet earth… He knew the joint had to be put back in, he knew it might as well be him doing it as any professional… But seeing his brother so weak and vulnerable hurt him deep down in his soul, and all he could think was that it was his fault.  
Because he left…  
And not just this morning…

SPNSPNSPN

It took Dean almost an hour after his shoulder had been set, before he stopped crying. By that time his head felt all weird and his eyes stung like if he had gotten mace in his eyes.

His knee was just one big ball of unbearable pain, and his shoulder stated that it wanted to join in on the same party…

Once again he was thankful for his sasquatch brother, and his sasquatch strength. After his shoulder had been set, he had been picked up off the ground. Bridal-style… And carried gently back to his bed.

Sammy had propped him up, better than any nurse he had ever had the pleasure of meeting. Then he had handed him two pills and a box of soda.

"I think that surgery of yours steps further and further up the line…" Sammy said in a monotonous voice, "It's not really like you have a choice… Your leg is hurting you too much…"

"I know."

"And really, your health should be higher on our list of priorities than a few months of hunting should… There are other hunters too… I mean Bobby could probably find a few that seem to be on a bit of a dry spell…"

"I know."

"I say we stay here in town for a few more days, until your leg will allow you a few hours in a car each day. Then we head up to New York… Because you really need that surgery, Dean…"

"I SAID I KNOW!" Dean practically yelled back at his little brother, as tears started stinging his eyes once again.

 **I always feel like a nutjob when I write something along the lines of 'hope you enjoy it' and the chapter is full of pain in multiple forms...**

 **But hey, I live in the great belief that no one I know personally will ever be able to find me on this site. And if they just happen to find me, they'll likely never know it's me...**

 **And well, yeah...  
I kinda have to ask, because I feel like our good pal Lucifer while writing this much agony...  
-Too much pain? **

**I think there will be more fluff and caring in the next chap... Don't know if I'll make a chapter about them staying there for a few more days, or if I should just fast forward to them heading towards NY...  
Guess I'll have to think about that...**


	12. Handle it?

**Hi again!**

 **Thank y'all so much for all the reviews so far!**

He knew his brother's leg was overly painful. He also knew his brother couldn't sit still worth SHIT.

Sam had in his 22 years on this earth acquired more injuries than the regular Joe. He knew how bad some injuries could feel, but he had never been so unfortunate that he had managed to fuck anything up beyond the point where it would eventually heal up and be almost as good as new. The only 'chronic' pain he knew of, was re-injuring things.  
If you hunted with a bruised rib, you were destined to bruise it even more… And it would seem like it took forever to heal…

Though Dean had never admitted it, Sam suspected that he hadn't been as lucky. Those few times he had managed to wake up before Dean, he got a front row seat to see his brother before he got warmed up. Before walking it off he would be stiff and he would move with caution.  
His shoulder for instance, his left arm would seldom be lifted above shoulder height before he either took a morning walk or a warm shower…  
Sam had observed, but he hadn't really offered it any thoughts. His brother had been like that since _he_ had been fourteen or fifteen…

Right now Dean was laying in his bed, and Sam made a mental note of how rare it was to see his brother staying so still.  
Because Dean moved around a lot, some part of him was always moving, bouncing or shifting.

It annoyed him. In a weird, unexplainable way it annoyed him.  
His brother was supposed to bob his foot, or at least tap his fingers to a tune only he heard... But he just sat there, right hand supporting his left arm, his right leg elevated on all the pillows Sam had managed to find.

SPNSPNSPN

He had realized that surgery was his only option, if he wanted a chance to heal completely. Or at least better that he had healed up till now. He had realized it eighteen weeks after his first surgery.

He had still been busy with the rehabilitation, which had been a slow going progress…  
The pains had changed. Some things hurt less than earlier, other things hurt just as much as it would have without the surgery. His physician had explained to him that; since his knee had been as injured as it had, the surgeons hadn't been able to fix everything at once.  
Dean remembered that the man had told him that it was because of two reasons. One, the swelling inside and around his joint made it difficult for the doctors to operate on him. Two, the risk of infection.

They had fixed the things that needed it. The things that were crucial to holding his knee together. The things that needed to be in okay shape to keep his knee from dislocating.

He still had two meniscuses with tears in them. His tendons and ligaments were stretched to a point where his knee was less than stable. But they had stitched his ACL, PCL and LCL back together…

He had been explained that the next surgery would require that they opened up his knee. Completely this time…

He would probably never admit it, but he was scared. When a doctor tells you that they will have to slice your knee fully open, you get scared…

He was everything but content with his situation. All his joints were itching to move, but his knee demanded rest. And his shoulder wasn't all that pleased with the idea of moving either…

SPNSPNSPN

It was humiliating. He should be working full time, he shouldn't have the need for bedrest. Nor should he have the need for a damn wheelchair to get around…

In one way, he had been pleased with the fact that his kid brother had gone out and stolen a wheelchair from the nearest hospital… On the other hand, he hated the fact that it was for him…

It made it easier for him to get around, and he didn't risk falling on his ass because of his stupid shoulder… His injuries had dulled down a lot since the morning, but he still felt the pounding in his leg and the soreness around his shoulder. And it meant his brother wouldn't be following him EVERYWHERE. Like the bathroom.  
Dean wasn't ashamed of his body…  
But he liked his privacy very much…

It wasn't like it was his first time in a wheelchair either.  
There was the one time when he was nine, when a bad decision had caused him to fracture his left leg, and his right ankle…  
The time in eight grade, when a hunt had left him with a severely twisted ankle and a dislocated hip… Of course that couldn't be on one and the same leg…  
Then there were the time when he was twenty… A gunshot shattering a bit his fibula meant he had to keep off his leg, which would have been easier hadn't he fractured one of his wrists the day before… (He had taken his GED during the recovery of that one…)

SPNSPNSPN

"How you holding up over there?" Sam asked his brother. He was still sitting, or laying, on the bed. His natural color had returned, which Sam took as a good sign. His brother could have competed with corpse earlier…

"I'm fine…" Dean answered not even taking his eyes off the television.

Sam nodded. He knew Dean was far from the normal version of fine, he knew it was more like; I've got a grip on it…

Sam knew in that second, that his brother was going to be all right. He knew Dean could handle it…

 **Okay, I know...  
This wasn't a lot of H/C OR fluff... **

**But I'll be back... And someone will feel it...  
(Won't tell in which way yet...)**

 **I know this chap was nothing much...  
Hope you still liked it...**


	13. The marine

**Thanks for all the great comments this far!**

 **Hope you enjoy!**

Dean rolled towards the diner. His right leg laid painfully stretched out on the footrest, still aching violently from yesterday's fall… His left shoulder tinged with pain at certain movements. And he knew well enough not to trust it with crutch-walking yet.

The painkillers he'd taken was starting to wear off, and Sammy had agreed on picking up his new prescription while Dean went inside the diner and ordered them something to eat. Sammy had picked a salad he had remembered from the menu… Dean figured he would get a bacon-cheeseburger… And he was intent on shoving it down his own throat too…  
He knew he should eat…

But his leg bothered him… And he felt nauseous all the time… And food wasn't all that high on his 'things-I-wish-for list'…  
Pain relief, rest, a good bang… All higher up on that list right now than food…

He struggled with the door until a man his age helped him out. Dean looked up to see a sling and dog-tags hanging around the man's neck. Dean felt even more ridiculous…

"Thanks…" he muttered a bit ashamed.

"Don't worry 'bout it…" the man with the sling smiled.

He managed to wheel the chair inside. His pride now hurting in beat with his leg…

"So… You army?" the man asked, and Dean's hand automatically shot up to check whatever else he might have dangling around his own neck, besides the amulet Sammy once gave him. His fingers found the familiar shape of dog-tags hidden behind the fabric of his shirt.

"Marine…" Dean offered with a smile. He almost felt the right to say so… Their dad had trained them after all…

"Wow, a fellow man…" the man's face lit up, "Can't say I meet too many jarheads here in town… In the city of course, but this is an army town… You know…"

Dean shook his head, "No, can't say that I know… I'm just passing through with my brother, we're heading for New York in a few days…"

The man nodded again. "Get hurt on the job?"

Dean nodded. He hated to lie like this, about this, but he figured it would be better than anything else he could come up with.

"Yeah, luckily I can't remember anything about that week in general… But yeah…" Dean faked a failing smile. Testing his acting performances once again…  
Man, in another life; he really wished he could have tried acting…

The man chewed the inside of his cheek, and Dean figured it had to be some kind of nervous act.

"And you?" he backed his chair up a bit, making the angle he had to tilt his head easier.

"Yeah, someone put a bullet through my shoulder… Awful sight…"

Dean nodded knowingly. It wasn't like he'd never been shot before either…

"That sucks majorly…"

The man nodded and absentmindedly supported his sling with his free arm.

"Is it a family thing for you too?" Dean asked after a few silent seconds. The silence was making him uncomfortable…

"From my grandpa, on to my dad, on to me…" a faint smile crossed the man's lips.

"That's usually how it goes I guess…" Dean shrugged, then winced as his shoulder told him not to do that again…

"Name's Dean Winchester…" Dean offered, extending his _left_ hand.

"Rodney Calvert…" the man accepted his hand and pressed firmly.

"Nice to meet ya!"

"Likewise…" Rodney's lips turned upward at the corners. "Care for a coffee?"

"Sure… I was just about to grab a bite to eat, and it looks like my little brother Sammy is going to take his sweet time getting his ass over here…"

As Rodney walked over and ordered his coffee, Dean frantically texted Sammy.  
 _-If there's a dark brown haired dude here when you come over, I'm a marine… Okay?_

Half a minute later, when he was ordering his coffee, his phone buzzed.  
 _-Okay… Am I?_

 _-Got your tags on?_

 _-Yeah, as a matter of fact…_

 _-Then yeah you are…_

 _-Good to know, be there in five._

SPNSPNSPN

"You hurtin'?" the marine asked after a few minutes, Sammy had yet to return…

"Does it show that bad?" Dean almost moaned. His leg was in the middle of a major cramping-fit, and he couldn't move it to make it better…

"I know the signs… Remember?"

Dean offered a fleeting smile, his only wish right now was a drip-bag filled with the good-stuff… The kind that made you forget that time and pain ever existed.

"Right…"

Dean's right hand went down to massage the surrounding muscles, but it was too painful to touch…

He heard the door open and shut, and the familiar sound of his brother's footsteps heading towards them. Dean craned his neck, and saw that Sammy had flipped his tags outside his t-shirt.

He was carrying a small, brown, paper bag in one hand as he aimed straight at them.

Rodney got up when Sammy made it to the table, he smiled and extended his healthy left hand. "You must be Dean's younger brother, right?"

"Yeah, I'm Sam."

"Rodney, nice to meet you?"

Sam smiled, and nodded. "Fellow marine? Or…?"

Rodney nodded, "Sure am!"

Sammy placed the paper bag in front of Dean, who opened the bag and fished up a couple of pills from the bottle inside. His leg was really bothering him. And he just wanted it to stop.

SPNSPNSPN

They spent a few hours at the diner, eating food and drinking coffee, and chatting with Rodney. Rodney had told them about his time in Iraq, and the boys had made up some pretty realistic stories themselves.

Sam had even shrugged off his hoodie, and lifted up the sleeve of his t-shirt to show off a long faded bullet wound. One he had gotten in a hunt when he was barely seventeen…

Sam couldn't help but wonder how their lives would have turned out if it hadn't been for the things that went bump in the night that they hunted… He was in no doubt his brother would have turned out to be a hero of some sort. A soldier, marine, firefighter, policeman, medic…  
One thing he knew for sure was that his brother would have been saving lives…

SPNSPNSPN

When they finally made their way back to their motel room that evening, Dean turned to Sammy.

"Dude, we're leaving tomorrow…"

He knew the drive would be killer, but he didn't want to meet that _real hero_ again, and have to fake being one too…

He felt like a dirty, lying, piece of shit… And his leg hurt.

His brother looked like he wanted to argue… But after a little while, he gave in and nodded.

"Okay…" Sammy said it in a quiet voice, barely above whisper… "As long as you think you're up for it…"

 **I took the liberty to believe that Sam and Dean also have dog tags, that they happen to wear every now and then... I mean like if they need to get on the inside with a bunch of marines or something...**

 **Anybody else feel like Dean would consider the marine more of a hero than himself?**

 **I know I didn't deal out any visious pain in this chapter either, I'm sorry...  
I wanted to, but it turned into a microscopic character study of sorts instead...**

 **Hope you liked it, and I'll try to bring out the shamelessness soon...  
-As soon as the keyboard will let me...**


	14. Comfort food

**Hellooo!**

 **Up with a new chapter again!  
Hope you enjoy!**

Dean was right. The car ride was filled with pain and suffering. And even though they were on a 'straight' patch of asphalt, he swore he could point out every damn uneven pebble they'd hit over the past two hours.

He had taken the backseat. Because; no matter how long his brother's legs were, he couldn't sit with his leg straight in the front seat. Not elevated anyway…

He worked his jaw to keep from making any involuntary noises. The last thing he needed right now was his brother knowing how much pain he was in. He wasn't quite sure what would have happened if he'd found out, but he was sure enough about the fact that Sammy would find the closest motel and call it a day…  
And Dean needed to get the hell away from Pella, preferably as far away from Rodney as possible.

Rodney was a cool dude, sure enough… But he just reminded Dean of what a disgrace he was. Especially when he had lied in front of the soldier, forcing him to believe that Dean himself was a purebred hero…

SPNSPNSPN

About three hours later, a faulty turn had sent them to a small town a little north.

Small town might even he an exaggeration… The place was a main-street with shops, cafés and a library, and houses scattered around.

They found a place to spend the night at Village Motel. It wasn't all that different from any place they had ever stayed…  
Well… Except that they had travelled back to the nineties.

The first thing he laid eyes on when he wheeled himself in in room number 12, was the old, small, box TV. About 16 inch or so…

The room was nice and clean, a little on the womanly-decorated side in comparison to where they usually stayed. This room had lace-curtains!

"Only thing missing here is a friggin' porcelain doll, with eyes that follows your every move…"

His little brother walked in, and studied the scene. His nose scrunched up, and he nodded.

"Yeah, it looks like a grandma designed this room…"

SPNSPNSPN

He had sent his little brother outside, to find something edible that didn't come in an air-tight wrapping.

Dean had the remote to the miniature television in one hand and his other hand was occupied with rubbing his thigh. He had dug up some old re-runs of Bonanza, and was currently watching the episode where Ben, Hoss and Little Joe get shanghaied in San Francisco.

Bonanza was one of his guilty pleasures…

His leg was upset with the fact that they had driven for hours. Dean sat leaned up against the headboard of his bed, he let his head fall back and rest against it.

Dean was halfway through the watching the second of the double episodes when Sammy struggled through the door, bearing gifts of nutrition. He emptied his hands on the small dining table standing up against the wall closest to the front door. Then opened the first of three cardboard boxes, and placed it on the nightstand between their beds.

"Wow, pizza Sammy! Again? What is it? Our anniversary?" Dean said jokingly, pizza was one of their better foods. One that weren't as commonly eaten as burgers and microwave-meals.

"Shut up and eat, Jerk!" Sammy smiled

"Bitch." Dean answered before he grabbed a slice of 'Papa Andrea's' pork pizza.

He bit into the delicious pizza he held in his hand, and enjoyed every second of it.

SPNSPNSPN

Forty-five minutes later, walked over to where he had let the third cardboard box. He found two plates in the cupboard over the small kitchenette, and two forks. Then he brought it over to the nightstand.

He almost laughed at Dean's surprised expression.

"Pie…?" big green eyes found his, and Sam couldn't help but think about how young and fragile his older brother looked.

"Yeah…" Sam answered, scratching the back of his head. "I knew today's drive was tough on you… Thought you could use some comfort food…"

"You knew?"

Sam only nodded, as he cut a piece of pie and placed it on a plate for Dean.

"Thanks"

 **Man, I should really write more on my original story...  
But I'm procrastinating it with ****_this_** **.**

 **But hey, I'm at the possible halfway-point of my original story...  
And I have no real deadline for the project... **

**Gee...**

 **Well, THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR THE REVIEWS SO FAR!  
You should only know how much I appreciate it!**


	15. CRACK!

**Hey, I'm here again... Still procrastinating the book I'm trying to write for my cousin...**

 **Thank you all so much for the reviews!**

 **Hope you enjoy this chapter too...**

It took him a week, but he finally got well enough to walk around without the big brace. It felt weird to just have the simple neoprene's back on. It felt weird, but good.

These he could actually move around in…

He had yet to lose the limp though. His knee still hurt, but not more than he could manage. Not more than he HAD managed for quite a while…  
And as long as he had his 'annoying little brother' around to remind him that his leg needed all the rest it could get, he would be back on top of his game in no time.

He needed the surgery. Hell, he didn't even want to put it off anymore after the last couple of weeks…

Their plan was simple; get to New York, get the surgery…

They had spent two days in McGregor, then they had headed south-east towards the Big Apple. They were planning on driving the last stretch tomorrow, figuring Philadelphia was a place as well as any to spend the night…

They had both walked over to a Wendy's just around the corner from there they stayed, and Dean hadn't had any difficulties keeping up with his long-legged sasquatch. Not more than before his knee had decided to turn bat-shit-crazy on him a few weeks back…  
Nope, he was almost back to his usual 'pre-give-out,-post-knee-wrecked'-self.

SPNSPNSPN

They walked back to the run-down motel they were staying at… It was one of those places where you could think you saw a small stray dog, only to find it was a giant sized spider… With a furry back…  
Or where you could hear the spiders before you necessarily saw them…

Dean was just waiting to be strangled by one of those beasts. He had met high school juniors smaller than the one he met in the bathroom. (Needless to say that he had excused himself, at let the spider finish it's business. First when he heard the toilet flush, and the paper it had been reading being folded, he headed back in there.)

It was definitely one of the shadier places they had stayed, but not the worst… Far from it… As long as Dean didn't wake up, finding himself being nibbled on by rats, he was super. Rats was the worst.

Everything in their room was stained. EVERYTHING! Even the TV had a weird stain, which Dean couldn't for the life of him figure out the source of. But it was the only place they found that still had a room left. _Actually, we only have three people staying here tonight. We have plenty of vacant rooms!_

"Good thing we're heading up to New York tomorrow morning…" Sammy said wrinkling his nose as he pulled something nasty-looking out of the sink.

"Did you find intelligent life over there?" Dean looked at the hairy, moldy mess in disgust.

"One more week and I think it would have crawled outta here on it's own…"

"Yeah, that would have been my instinct too…" Dean shuddered at the thought of what else they might find.

Sammy nodded, threw the thing in the garbage and washed his hands.

"Let's turn in early, that way we can get up extra early and get away from this dump!"

"Getting up early have never sounded so good in all my life, Sammy!" Dean attempted a smile, "Good night…"

SPNSPNSPN

Sam woke up way before the sun even thought about rising over the city. He was sure he had heard a dog barking, but the sound had come from the roof… And that just didn't fit ANYTHING he could think of…

He just stayed there, resting his body for the drive… Waiting for his brother to wake up…

Dean started to stir, he turned over and stretched his legs.

An audible CRACK sounded throughout the room, and Dean's eyes shot open.

For a few seconds, Sam watched with curiosity as pain clouded his brothers eyes. A few more seconds, and his brother relaxed once again.

"What was that!?"

"My knee…"

"Your knee?" Sam drew a deep breath, "Are you okay?"

" 'M fine Sammy…" Dean offered him a relaxed smirk, "This old meat-suit just needs a little touch-up…"

"That even sounded like it hurt, Dean!"

"Relax, it was over just as quickly as it started…" Dean said with a smile, yet he couldn't help but fear what sounds his body would produce when he reached forty. If he ever reached forty…

 **Well, I just had to skip forward a bit...**

 **Ever stayed at a place where you feared to wake up being licked in the face by a giant spidog?**

 **Or do any of you guys and gals out there sound like a crushing mill?**

 **Anyway, hope you liked the chap...**

 **Should I skip forward to post-op? Or should I be really freaking nice and make poor Dean be one of those that narcosis doesn't affect normally? Like being wide awake and feeling eeeeverything during surgery, but utterly unable to scream or move?  
-You get the choice here... Cruel, or cruel as F! ? **


	16. Thanks

**Hello!**

 **New chapter for you guys!**

 **It's a short one...**

They had left Philadelphia in their rearview mirror around 8 a.m. Both pretty anxious to get away from the dirty motel.

Sam drove, while his brother sat quietly-ish in the passenger seat. His head bobbing to the music playing over the cassette tape player. Every now and then Sam caught a glimpse of his brother's air-drum solos, and he couldn't help but smile. There was no way his brother would ever grow up and become boring…

Sam drew a deep breath, and relaxed back into the leather of the seat. Even though it wasn't his regular place, it still felt familiar and soothing. One of the things he'd actually missed during his time at Stanford. That, and his man-child brother…

They had to take a humongous detour… First, because of construction. And second, because of a crash involving at least 18 vehicles…

About two hours into the drive, he noticed that his brother had settled down. He was leaning his shoulder against the door. His head rested against his right arm. He looked uncomfortable. The way he held his body told Sam all he needed to know. His brother was in pain.

His lips were pressed firmly together, the premature wrinkles around his eyes stood out clearer… The freckles across his nose and cheeks stood out against his now pale skin. His light bronze tan had disappeared as the pain had stolen the color from his skin, leaving him with dark circles under his eyes instead.

Sam wondered whether he should mention it. Wondered if he should stop and let his brother walk around a bit if he needed to, or if he wanted to sit in the backseat for the rest of the trip.  
But he knew better, this was Dean in his 'I'm-gonna-snap-at-you-if-you-annoy-me-mood', and Sam had no intention of annoying Dean… Not right now anyway…

Ten minutes more, and Dean's hand shifted. Sam studied his brother out of the corner of his eye, as Dean started rubbing his thigh. Slowly but surely closing in on the agonizing joint.

Should he say something? Even if he could wind up being yelled at for it?

SPNSPNSPN

Dean could no longer find any positions that didn't hurt in one way or another. So he settled for the one that had the mildest form of agony attached to it.

So sat with his right leg stretched as far as the Impala would let him, his left leg was tucked up close to the seat… He had had his shoulder and arm leaned up against the window. He had placed his head up against his own arm, using it as a natural pillow.

The discomfort grew with every passing mile, and soon enough he was in loads of pain. He tried hiding it. He didn't want Sammy to realize that he was hurting again. He had just stopped, dammit!

He tried rubbing it out of his thigh… And when that didn't work, he moved in closer to his knee… He stiffened a whimper as he hit a sore spot at the sinner side of his knee. He bit his tongue, and proceeded massaging the flesh surrounding his traitorous joint.

His knee was stinging with sharp painful stabs. He wanted to bend his knee as much as humanly possible, and he wanted to straighten it out as far as he could… It felt like he needed to do one of those two things, but when he moved he almost lost his grip. It was like someone had poured melted silver in between his femur and tibia. Like it scolded the insides of his knee… And he pretty much knew what he was talking, or thinking, about too… He had had his fair share of melted silver incidents, he had a permanent white mark on his left index finger to prove it…

After torturing himself for quite a while, he finally caved.

"Sammy…" he didn't like how weak his own voice sounded.

"Yeah, Dean…?" his brother answered him, watching him out of the corner of his eye…

"I need a brake…"

Sam nodded, and Dean was positive that he in one split second saw his brother smile.

"I'll stop as soon as I find a place to pull off the main road…"

"thanks."

 **Thanks for all the comments!**

 **I really enjoy all of this!**


	17. Surgery

**Another chapter, hope you enjoy it!**

Three days later, Dean was being prepped for surgery. He went over this and that with his doctors, and changed into one of those embarrassing gowns that left little to nothing to the imagination. He had contemplated wearing it the wrong way, but he knew he was too tired in general to put it back on correctly when he needed to do so…

His knee hadn't acted all too nicely towards him the last few days, but he got by. He had decided to rely on _one_ crutch, just to stabilize himself.

His shoulder had on the other hand been kind to him, and it had stayed in its place. Sammy had still decided to go all mother hen on him, and he had went out and bought a shoulder restraining brace. In hope of keeping his shoulder from dislocating again while he was tied to the crutches for his recovery time…

Dean was guided to the room where the surgery would take place, he sat up on the table and laid back down. The anesthesiologist put one of those needles in his wrist, the ones you place other needles into later… It was the first time Dean ever had one on the inside of his wrist. It was weird…

The man plugged in another needle, and kept on talking to him. Dean fought to stay awake, but eventually lost consciousness.

SPNSPNSPN

Dean's eyes shot open as the knife dug into the skin around his knee. Well, no, they didn't shoot open, but that was what his body would have done if the neural signals hadn't decided that it was a one-way road for the time being.

He laid there, completely unable to do anything! He felt every damn touch, he heard voices and noises, but he couldn't answer.

He felt how they peeled back the layers of skin and muscles to expose the inside of his knee. He could feel how the instruments dug into the tissues and how everything just plain hurt.

He held on for a few minutes, until he blissfully passed out from the pain.

SPNSPNSPN

His mouth was full of cotton. Wet, wooly cotton. He tried scraping the 'hairball' together with his teeth, only to find that there was nothing there but what should be in his mouth.

His eyelids were heavier than he ever remembered them being. About 90 lbs each, if he had to guess… His limbs were even heavier, and he clumsily managed to punch himself in his head with his left hand.

Dean didn't do drugs very well. That was no news to him…  
Alcohol, sure… But other stuff… He was like a virgin drinker...

He had built up some sort of tolerance to the pain meds he'd been on over the last year or so… But this was a whole another league… This was….  
…Sparkles?

Why was it sparkling?

A few tough attempts later he managed to hoist his eyelids up to half-mast.

Ceiling lamp…  
That was the sparkly thingy…

Then it all went black again.

SPNPSNPSN

His stomach felt funny. Should it?

What the hell had he done last night to deserve this?

Dean laid in his bed, feeling as his insides twisted and curled. How whatever was inside his belly seemed to be shifting and doing its best to take a trip upstairs.

Acid leaped up in his throat, but he managed to keep it from spraying out over his motel bed. And waking Sammy in the process.

Another wave of nausea hit him, another mouthful of bile trying to escape his insides.

Dean opened his eyes, and stared up at a white, spotless ceiling, with a bright lamp in the middle of it.

He wasn't in a motel room… Was he?

Slowly it came back to him.  
His knee… He had had knee-surgery…

It didn't hurt anywhere yet, but then again…  
He couldn't feel his face yet…

He frantically fought against whatever his stomach contained, as he searched his surroundings for something to empty his stomach contents in. He found one of those kidney bowl thingies and puked pure acid.

He hated this!

He felt sick as a dog, and all he could do was hold on tight until it passed.

20 minutes of sickness later, he was welcomed by the darkness again.

SPNSPNSPN

When he finally woke up, he had no clue how many hours later. His eyes focused on the brand new brace around his leg. It was the same kind as his old one, but newer. Less worn to shreds…

It was black, and metal. And the Velcro-straps didn't contain dust-specimen from every motel and hellhole across the country.

It seemed bigger than his old brace, more clumpy…

As Dean studied it from where he laid, he noticed that this one seemed to have some sort of child proofing. Something that looked like it would prevent you from cutting up your fingers on the bendable parts.

He drunkenly stared down at his right hand, where he knew there would be a few scars from his old brace. The damn thing had teeth…

He kept staring at the new brace, like it would suddenly come to life and do something. But of course nothing happened.

After a while he started looking around the hospital room. Someone must have cleaned up whatever mess he managed to make earlier. He had a strong recollection of parting with whatever he had eaten the last 12 years, earlier, but there were no signs in sight that that ever happened.

He rested his head back on his pillow, and relaxed.  
He had to enjoy this merciful break from the pain, while it lasted.

 **Oh, poor Dean...  
This got a bit 'messy'...  
( I definitely could have made it more graphic, but I didn't want to... And I just assumed you didn't want that either...)**

 **Hope you're still enjoying my cruelty towards Dean...**

 **Anyone else wish that they'd make a few more episodes like 7x03 (The Girl Next Door)? or the ones they** ** _had to make_** **back in season 2, when Jared fractured his hand, or beinning of season 10...? (I do not wish for any of them to get hurt IRL, just so you know it.)  
Jared's a pretty unlucky guy I guess..**


	18. 5 stars

**Thank you all so much for the comments! I mean; WOW!**

 **THANKS!**

 **(There is like 50 freaking comments to this fic right now, and I'm just over here like; where did they come from?  
Nah... I'm hiiiiigh above the clouds right now! THANK YOU ALL SO VERY MUCH!)**

Five stars, Sam couldn't believe it. Five stars.

Five was the number of stars the hotel they were staying at had been granted with. The only times Sam had even been inside the street doors of hotels like this was when their dad had worked a gig way back when…

Dean was right; Working for rich dudes had its perks.

His brother was still at the hospital, recovering from whatever they had used to put him under. And Sam had seen _that_ performance too many times already. He knew his older brother would be sick to his stomach when he woke up, and that it was better for him to stay in the care of professionals during that time.  
He also knew that there was no need for him to sit beside his brother's bed, and get nauseous himself after watching Dean puke all over everything…

No, it was a routine surgery. (At least according to everything else in their lives.) A planned surgery. And his brother wasn't bleeding out through any other wounds. Dean would be just fine, once the aftermath of the narcosis passed.

SPNSPNSPN

Their room was nice and clean, and big! Three words that had never been used together to describe any place they had ever stayed…

The beds were wide, and just perfect. He smiled when he realized that the mattresses was just the way Dean loved them. His brother deserved that, and more.

The bedroom was huge. Like; swordfight practice huge.

And when he saw the bathroom it reminded him of one of those Hollywood mansions they sometimes saw a glimpse of on TV. It was even bigger than some of the motel rooms they had stayed in… THIS FALL!

And there was a real kitchen. Not a kitchenette, but a real kitchen! And the hotel still served three meals a day. This was all too good to be true. Compared to the mess their lives usually were…

After a while Sam realized that he actually was too short to reach the ceiling of the room. _So this is what normal people feel like?_

His thoughts were interrupted when his phone started buzzing.

"Hello.?"

"Mr. Winchester?"

"Yes, that's me…"

"Hi, I'm Jenny from the hospital. Your brother asked me to call you and tell you, and I quote here… That he's 'outta spew and good to go…'"

"Okay… Thanks…" Sam sighed, "I feel sorry for you having to listen to my brother. Dean is so… colorful… at times."

"Well, even throwing up all over the place, he managed to woo quite a few of our nurses…"

"Yeah… Dean is like that…" Sam agreed, secretly thinking that his brother could have been comatose and still wooed plenty women.

 **Hope I didn't bore you to death with this one...**


	19. Young

**Sorry it's been a while... I got hooked on SOA... And almost binge-watched the entire first season on netflix...  
And yeah... I went out on a limb, and got an extra job too... Which leads to me having two call up jobs... And no 9-5 everyday job... But they will be keeping me busy at least... And who cares if I can't get a job with 'regular' hours just yet... I'm young... And I'm still trying...  
This is just to make a living...**

Even though crutch-walking was second nature to him by now, the hobble from the Impala to the elevator of the _hotel_ they stayed in was almost more than he could take. His body pleaded for mercy as he crutched in through the entrance.

His body felt old. Old and beaten.

He remembered staying here the last time too… It was a nice place; big beds, nice shower-pressure and excellent meals. (A little more fancy than what he usually ate, but very tasty.)

He struggled with the crutches, which suddenly appeared to be set to a too short height. Dean couldn't for the life of him realize how that came to happen… The only other person in contact with his crutches was Sammy, and lets face it; _IF_ Sammy had used his crutches they wouldn't suddenly be too short!

And yeah, it was his crutches. He recognized the things he had carved in due to boredom…  
His initials, a small devils trap just for fun and some random rock lyrics.

When he reached the elevator, sweat was beading his forehead and he was panting. _When did he get so out of shape?_

All he wanted right now, was to get up to their room before Sammy finished parking the Impala, and get comfortable on his bed. His newly fixed leg, neatly placed on top of an oversized pillow. _Yeah… He could work with that!_

He rode the elevator up to the 54th floor. Then he scurried over to the room that ended with the number 16, found the keycard his little brother had given him, and locked himself inn. The room was just as awesome as the one he had stayed in last time; except this one had two beds…

He let the door close behind him as he made a beeline for the closest bed, he had no intension what so ever of staying vertical for another second… Not if he could do something about it…

SPNSPNSPN

Sam entered their room, which honestly was more like a giant flat… To find his older brother, fully dressed, one leg up on two enormous pillows, and snoring like a freight train…

Poor guy… That leg sure took its toll on him, didn't it?

He put the TV on low, and laid down on the other bed. He watched his brother's chest rise and fall evenly. At least his brother got a small break from the pain he had been battling for some time now. The creases in his face seemed to flatten out, and it had a de-aging effect on him.

Sam couldn't remember his older brother looking as young as he did right now… Not since a year or two before he left for Stanford. He felt a stab of guilt as the thought passed through his mind. He hadn't seen his older brother so relaxed in over four years, at least. And it took some pretty heavy duty painkillers to get him to that point… The evidence was placed at the nightstand closest to Dean. An orange bottle of something Sam would like to hear pronounced before he gave it a go…

He saw about half of an old movie on one of the channels before he decided he too could use some sleep…

 **Hope you enjoyed the chapter...**

 **I'm sorry that it took a while...**


	20. Progress

**Okay, sorry... Wrote this chapter a long time ago, forgot to post it...**

 **Hope you enjoy...**

Five weeks later, and a lot of physical therapy later… Dean was again able to bend his knee up to 90 degrees. It felt like a huge milestone. He still wasn't allowed to walk on it and relied on the crutches, but at least he could move his leg…

During the first ten days he had the brace set to a locked straight position. No movement what so ever… It might as well have been a cast… Then he had started therapy, and slowly he had been allowed to move his knee more and more. First five degrees, then ten, then twenty-five… And so on…

The scar was a down-right masterpiece… It stretched from four inches above his kneecap to four inches below his kneecap. And no, he didn't count from the center of his kneecap, he measured it from the top and bottom of his kneecap... Which left him with a slightly curved scar a little longer than ten inches in total… The scar had an angry red color, but it seemed to be healing nicely.

His shoulder had been treating him nicely, but he felt a bit better when he actually wore the shoulder brace thingy… It felt safer, and his therapist agreed with him. It was better to be safe than sorry…

It didn't hurt much, but it got sore easily. And every time he had to do new exercises in the therapy he would wind up sore and grumpy the next day… Much to Sammy's dismay…

SPNSPNSPN

Sammy had been taking a few hunts on his own, just small easy things… Salt and burn kinda style… It was weird hunting alone, he had never really done that before… He had done it like once, what seemed like a million years ago… And after Stanford he felt a little rusty, so he did not enjoy it… At all…

And he had acted like Dean's personal babysitter… Dean wasn't the best patient to ever have crutched across the earth, and he needed to be reminded that he should take it easy and stay _COMPLETELY_ off his leg. But Sammy's hard work was paying off, Dean was making good progress and he had even put on a few pounds again.  
 _'Look Sam! My pants almost stay up on their own, without a belt!'  
'That's not staying up, Dean… That's barely hanging up there…'  
'Yeah, but they're not around my ankles just yet, are they…!'_

Progress were made…


End file.
